Circle Unbroken
by WolFang1011
Summary: Chaos ensues as the lives of a handful of individuals begin to intersect in strange ways. Disclaimer: The Elder Scrolls is the intellectual property of Bethesda Softworks. I own nothing. Beta: ClaireDuhBear
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Before the story proper, I'd like to thank a few people. It's like a short list of acknowledgements, so feel free to skip this part.**

**To ClaireDuhBear, for being an amazing Beta and putting up with all my crazyness while retaining her sanity, more or less. Your excited feedback means a lot to me.**

**To PhantomX0990, for being the first one to tell me to keep writing and showing interest in this idea. I hope you return to the writing scene soon, Phan. You are sorely missed.**

**To Zero121, for making me think, "Hey, I can write one too," with his own story. First story I ever read on this site, actually.**

**To El Stormo, for the words, "You write stories, don't you? So you're an author, no matter how successful you are." Helped when I had little faith in my writing skills while writing this chapter. I still don't have much faith, to be honest, but it's not as bad as it once was. Thank you, Coach.**

**All great authors by their right, these people. If you happen to read this author's note, give their stories a shot. I guarantee you won't be disappointed.**

**And so without further ado…**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

_"Cast aside the illusion that there is a beginning and end to the story. The story has no beginning. And it has no end. All there is, is a performance of people connecting, living, influencing each other, and departing."_

**Kai**

He disliked being summoned. It made him feel like he was a dog on a leash, wagging his tail while waiting for his master's orders.

For him, those days were long gone. Yet he still had to put up with their crap. Was he being nice, or was he just gullible? What was the difference between the two, anyway? It was a fuzzy line, at best.

"As you can imagine, the situation has gotten out of hand," Falk Firebeard continued his speech as he paced the room with his arms firmly behind his back.

He knew where this was going, knew all too well.

"Twenty-one people in ten months; this cannot and must not be allowed to continue."

"Why pick me?" he asked, curious. "There are better and more skilled hunters out there. Why not commission them?"

"You're the only one we can trust completely," Falk replied.

What that statement actually meant was that since he was the biggest sucker they had at their disposal _and_ because he was expendable, they had no reason to look any further. Knowing all this, he wondered why he still felt the need to help this man out. Whatever he did, he never got any recognition, fame, or acknowledgement. Not that he cared about such things. He had grown up without them and was perfectly content with being who he was now. But there were times when he wondered what it would have been like had he stuck with the Legion. He could've had everything that he had ever wanted; he wasn't cut out to be a dog of the military though, and he knew it. He wanted to do what he felt like doing, not being handed assignments by some stuck up steward who thought he was better than the rest. There was always the next assignment, after the big fat coin purse of course.

All he had to do was say 'no'. How hard could it be?

"I'll do it," he said with a sigh as his mind screamed at him to take back his words and say otherwise.

But words once spoken cannot be taken back. He would know.

"Excellent!" Falk positively beamed at him. "Right, so you'll leave-"

"Wait up, mate." Kai held up his hand, effectively shutting up the other man. "Give me details. I can't work with just a few incoherent words coming from a steward who paces around like he's suffering from constipation."

Ignoring the remark and still keeping a straight face, Falk cleared his throat before continuing, "As I was saying, you'll head to Mistveil Keep. Maven Black-Briar has everything you need neatly piled up for your perusal."

Riften, huh? He saw that one coming, too.

"If you're so chummy with Maven, couldn't you just have her deliver the documents here? It'll take time to go to Riften, read all the stuff and then backtrack all the way to Ivarstead." Kai said as his right hand pinky dug into his ear. "If the situation is as dire as you say, time is of essence, no?"

The utter look of irritation and disgust Falk sent his way as he pulled out his finger and flicked away the ear wax greatly satisfied him for some reason.

"It is a risk we are willing to take." Falk answered, his voice measured. "Besides, was it not you who used to say that knowledge is the greatest weapon a soldier can hope to possess? I thought you would be eager to know all you can about your target, Kai."

He resisted the urge to punch Falk's face in right then and there.

"That's your problem, Falk."

The redhead blinked. "I have a problem? What problem?"

"I'll tell ya later," Kai yawned. "Anyway, knowledge about your enemy only helps when you're strategizing to take targets out. It does shit in the wild when you're hunting man eating animals. All you can rely on is your skill and sheer dumb luck."

"Uh-huh, I'll take your word for it. Anyway, you're taking this job, correct?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll do it. Kill a man eating sabre cat, right? Sounds like a bundle of fun." Kai replied, running a hand through his jet black hair. "When do you want me to leave?"

"Tomorrow. I'll have a coach ready for you."

"Fine by me. Is that all?"

"That is all."

Nodding curtly, Kai spun on his heel and proceeded to walk out of the parlor when Falk stopped him.

"There is… another thing that I have to say."

"Then I'd advise you to say it," Kai said and glanced at Falk over his shoulder.

"This is probably asking too much after what you did in Wolfskull cave and later against Potema, but-"

"If this is about the Thane position, you can save it, Falk. I want no part of it."

"But why not?" Falk pressed, "You'll be able to walk with pride and with your head held up. Even the Legionnaires will honor and respect you."

"Look mate, I'll be honest with you." Kai wheeled around and faced Falk. "I don't give a skeever's ass about what the blasted barnacle clusters have to say about me. They can take all their superiority complexes and stick it up their asses for all I care. And besides," he stopped for a breath, "Being a Thane is too much work and I don't get paid enough as is. So yes, I refuse."

Both men stared at the other as a wave of silence fell over them.

"By your leave, Falk," Kai said and turned his back on Falk before marching out of the parlor and the Blue Palace.

* * *

><p>"Come, eat at Little Elsweyr! We serve fish. It's good, it's cheap and you won't drop dead after eating it, no matter what other people have to say! Long time no see, mister; want fish?"<p>

Amused, Kai watched as the Imperial man ran away from the Orc, who simply resumed trying to draw in customers for the restaurant.

"Ah, Captain! Long time no see. Want fish? Fish good. Fish very good; you'll like it. I'll give you a discount."

"Not today, Ghorbash. I'm broke," Kai refused politely. "Once I get a job and some cash, I'll definitely come; unless it's free today."

The Orc violently shook his head. "No way! If I give away free fish, I'll drown in the seaweed of Skyrim tundra!"

Chuckling, Kai patted his shoulder. "That's not exactly seaweed, but it sure looks the part. Anyway, is Omiq in?"

Ghorbash nodded, "Yes, he's in. Omiq's cooking fish. Go right in."

"Thanks, mate. You keep at it; you'll get customers… one day." Kai muttered the last part as he opened the door of the restaurant and walked in. as he closed the door, however, he heard the Orc's voice calling out to potential customers, "Come, eat at Little Elsweyr. It good, it cheap! We serve fish, not human. Not even on half price day!"

"And you wonder why you don't get enough customers," Kai grinned and occupied a bar stool.

"At least Ghorbash tries. That's what matters, nya," Omiq's voice called from the back. "This one will be out in a minute. Omiq wishes Kai to make himself at home, nya."

Snorting, Kai looked around the place. As usual, it was completely devoid of any customers. Ten tables, each with four tables, lined the wall.

"Make myself at home he says… this was my home to begin with…"

Indeed, this was his home, a gift from Elisif upon successfully thwarting Potema's resurrection. Once known as Proudspire Manor, the building was now a restaurant called 'Little Elsweyr' run by Omiq, a crafty Khajiit and Ghorbash, a scary looking Orc who, not so surprisingly, scared everybody away.

Kai had never been a person to be confined by walls. He preferred the outdoors, the wilderness… and shivering to sleep in a bedroll…

"This one thinks that Kai likes what he sees, nya."

Facing the Khajiit, Kai chuckled. "I'll hand it to you; you two have done a bloody good job with this… whatever it is."

The Khajiit laughed before lowering himself into a seat across Kai, "Yes, it does look nice. This floor is the main restaurant and kitchen. The top floor serves as living quarters, nya. This one has even saved a bed Kai. The basement serves as a temple; this one worships Arkay while Ghorbash can worship Malacath, nya."

"Daedra worship is against the law, you know."

"So, nya?" the Khajiit raised an eyebrow.

Kai couldn't help but laugh at that. "Well, I'm glad you could put it to use."

"This one is happy as well. Does Kai want something to eat, nya? Fried fish and curry with a loaf of bread, perhaps? Cyrodiilic spadetail is today's specialty, nya."

"I'll pass, Omiq. I just came to ask you a few things."

It was at this moment that the door opened and a group of four men entered, talking loudly amongst themselves and occupied a table in the corner. They were clad in leather armor, steel swords and axes hanging at the waist. One of them even had a longbow and a quiver of steel arrows on his back.

"Blasted Nord mercenaries, nya…" Kai heard Omiq mutter under his breath, "This one will be back after taking their order."

As Omiq busied himself with the task, Kai couldn't help but wonder how in the blue blazes Ghorbash managed to convince the party of mercenaries to dine at the place.

"Bring us the best mead you've got, cat!"

Ah. So that's what they were after.

"No Cyrodiilic spadetail, then?" Kai smirked as Omiq shrugged and disappeared into the kitchen before emerging with four bottles of mead.

"And now this one is at Kai's service, nya." Omiq said as he returned to his former position opposite Kai.

"Drop the accent. I know you can speak normally," Kai said, placing his elbows on the counter and supporting his chin on his palms, "It's difficult to keep up with it."

"But-"

"As your former superior, I hereby order you."

"Yes, Captain. Your wish is my command." Omiq said slyly, "So, what did you want to know, nya?"

"Heard of the man eating sabre cat of Ivarstead?"

The Khajiit grinned ear to ear. "Oh, so that's what Falk has asked you to do, is it, nya?"

"You nailed it." Kai chuckled, "How do you know everything?"

"I don't know everything," Omiq answered, glancing at the bunch of Nords laughing loudly among themselves. "I just know what I know, nya."

"Sure, I believe ya." Kai replied, sarcasm dripping from his tone. "So, what of this man eater?"

"That information will cost you twenty Septims, nya."

Grunting, Kai said, "You're going to charge me?"

"Standard rates apply to all, irrespective of whether I know the client or not, nya. And besides," Omiq interlaced his fingers and rested his chin atop them and leaned forward on his elbows, "You wouldn't want me to ruin the surprise, now would you, Captain, nya?"

He sighed. "It would've saved me the trip to Riften, that's all."

"You're going to Riften? That's your hometown, right, nya?"

"Uh-huh."

"I, for one, thought you'd be thrilled, nya."

"I am. Can't you see? I'm jumping with joy at the prospect," Kai deadpanned.

Omiq opened his mouth to retort but thought better of it and closed it, instead moving his head slightly to the right as an empty mead bottle came sailing through the air. "Rowdy bunch, eh, nya?"

Kai craned his neck and surveyed the group. The burly leader-looking fellow was busy telling the others a clearly exaggerated account of how he took down two Trolls with nothing but his axe. "Yeah, and they're pissing me off."

"Temper, Captain." Omiq chuckled. "One must always keep one's temper, nya."

"It's hard Omiq. I haven't been in a brawl in ages," he complained. "I'm itching for a fight!"

"Falk said something he shouldn't have, didn't he, nya?"

Kai raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to retort but his voice was drowned by the four Nords bellowing simultaneously for more mead.

"They need to quiet the fuck down," Kai growled and clenched his hands into fists. Omiq sighed and shook his head at his friend's childishness before going back to fetch some more mead for his unruly customers.

Left to himself, Kai tried taking deep breaths and counting backwards from ten, clenching and unclenching his fists as he repeated the exercise over and over. He considered himself a very patient person, though people who knew him would often tell him otherwise. In fact, many went as far as to say that he had the shortest fuse they had ever seen. But Kai still considered himself a very patient person.

"What in the two moons are you doing, nya?"

He looked up to find his friend staring down at him with an overly amused expression plastered on his face. He was holding a tray containing four more bottles of mead.

"I'm trying to-"

But he never got to finish that sentence.

"Cat! What is taking so damn long?"

Kai desperately tried to recall whatever was written in 'The Lusty Argonian Maid.' Thinking about that particular piece always quelled his temper. Unfortunately for him, his memory failed him after he had successfully recited the first paragraph in his head. Now, the incessant blabbering of the mercenaries bore into his mind, blotting out all thought. He rose from his seat. Pulling the crossbow off of its resting place on his back, he placed it on the counter. It was soon joined by his knapsack, the pouch containing crossbow bolts and his sheathed katana. "Give me that tray."

Well, he tried to be patient most of the time.

Omiq, who had had been watching him curiously all this time finally understood what he was about to do. He reluctantly obeyed his former superior. "Just don't break too much furniture, nya. Prices are rising. My level of income, on the other hand, is not, nya."

Without a word, Kai marched to the table occupied by the loud Nords and placed the tray on the table with a loud thud, effectively shutting them up.

"Now that I have your attention, I want to make something clear to you miserable molecules of mildew." Kai snarled, "This is a restaurant. You eat here. So do others. As such, I would like to tell you that you dunderheads are ruining my conversation with my pointy-eared, furry friend over there," he flicked his thumb at Omiq, "And I don't like that. So why don't y'all stuff your mugs with mead like gents and give us some peace and quiet, huh?"

"Oh boy, nya…" Omiq muttered.

There was a moment of silence as the men glanced at each other before breaking into a hearty laughter and rose to their feet.

"Boy, you should learn to mind your own business," the leader looking Nord said, taking a step in Kai's direction. "And place a rein on that tongue of yours. It'll get you into trouble one of these days."

Kai responded with a smirk. "Funny you should say that. I was going to say the same thing to you."

It might have been because Kai was too busy getting in the leader's face, or it could be because he wasn't expecting the thugs to make the first move, but for some reason, he didn't sense the archer creep up behind in. So it wasn't a surprise that he never saw the empty mead bottle being swung at his head. The glass bottle shattered against his skull, sending him stumbling forward a few steps towards the burly Nord, who met him halfway with a punch to the gut.

Kai collapsed to his knees, clutching his stomach. He was winded. His scalp had been split open and blood flowed freely along the side of his face. Then came the kicks and the insults. Kai curled up on the floor in a fetal position, shielding his head with his forearms. After about a minute or so, the stomping stopped. He felt the warm liquid trickling down along his cheek. It had been a while since he had bled; too long, in fact. Sticking out his tongue, he tasted his blood. It was metallic and disgusting, just like he remembered. Head wounds were always troublesome; they bled too much. He grinned. The first condition had been met.

"You aimed for my head…" Kai muttered as he placed his palms on the floor and pushed himself to his feet, wobbling slightly.

This surprised the thugs, who had by now seated themselves again.

"You have to know, a blow like that could kill a guy… right?"

His voice sounded calm. He was surprised himself; the mercenaries even more so.

"And this means you were intentionally trying to kill me… right?"

"So you want some more, you crazy bastard, huh?" the leader bellowed and got to his feet again.

Grinning like a maniac, Kai finally cracked his knuckles. "So then, whatever happens next is what you deserve, _right_?"

The Lightning Bolt spell caught the leader right on the chest, lifting him off his feet and slamming him into the far wall. As he slid down and landed on his butt, Kai turned his attention to the others, "A soldier prefers haste over cleverness. Strike quickly and you'll end it quickly too."

Omiq chuckled and called out to Ghorbash. The fun was just beginning.

One of the men tried to punch him, but was way off course on account of being drunk. Kai tilted his head to the right, allowing the gauntleted fist to sail by only inches from his left ear. He then countered with a hard right hook, catching the man under the ear. Then he grabbed the man's outstretched appendage and hurled him over his shoulder and into a nearby table. The table broke under the man's weight and he lay there, unconscious.

"Three hundred Septims, nya…" Omiq shook his head sadly.

Before the third could even make his move, Kai raised his right foot and planted it across the man's face, sending him stumbling backwards. The mercenary, clearly dazed, supported himself against a wooden column, seemingly having forgotten about the danger he was in. Taking advantage of that error, Kai launched a round kick at the man's head and squashed it between his shin and the column. He waited as his latest victim slid down along the column and landed with his butt on the floor before turning to face the last one. "You're the one that thumped me over the head, weren't you?"

The man faltered for a split second before drawing a dagger and charging. The sudden charge caught Kai off guard and he couldn't completely dodge the swing. The man managed to slash him diagonally across the chest, though the cut was shallow.

Kai looked down at his now torn vest, then up at his assailant, "You son of a bitch! That was my last piece of decent clothing! I don't have money to buy new clothes! Who's gonna pay for this, huh? Your in-laws?"

As he was ranting, the man saw his opportunity and charged again. This time, however, Kai caught the man's outstretched wrist with his right hand and sidestepped, causing the man to stumble forward due to his own momentum. Using this to his advantage, Kai wrenched the arm behind the man's back, causing him to stab himself with his own dagger. The leather armor absorbed much of the impact, but the dagger was still able to puncture the skin, though it wasn't deep enough to be fatal. As the man cried out in pain, Kai released him and drove his elbow into the back of the man's skull, effectively knocking him out. "That's how it's done. If you can't take out your opponent with the first blow, they have a nasty habit of coming back and biting you in the ass."

"That's impossible! You shouldn't even be able to stand!"

Kai turned and looked at the leader, who had by now recovered and was slowly staggering to his feet. The look of utter disbelief on his face was quite possibly caused by the sight before him. Kai couldn't blame the man. One moment, they were ganging up on him and the next, they were knocked out. He smirked. "All war's a deception; you think your enemy has a weakness and that becomes his greatest strength."

"Fuck you!" he cried out and drew his battleaxe and held it above his head, trying to throw it at Kai. However, he found himself unable to do so. Iron-like fingers had wrapped themselves around his wrist, making any movement completely and utterly impossible. Trying to determine the owner of the fingers, the Nord looked up and came face to tusk with an Orc.

"Fighting always bad," Ghorbash said, squeezing the man's wrist hard enough for him to relinquish his grasp on the weapon, "Now you'll become fry and curry."

The man gulped audibly.

"Don't take your eyes off your opponent, pig-head!"

The mercenary turned his head towards the direction of the voice, only to have a fist collide with his nose, breaking the cartilage with a loud snap. The man choked on his own blood and was barely able to put up a decent fight anymore.

"How does it feel like to be ganged up on?" Kai spat out blood and clutched his stomach, wincing a little. The assault earlier had been remarkably thorough. They had stomped on every part of his body they could get their boots on. In fact, he wouldn't be exaggerating if he said he looked like shit at the moment. However, he had recklessly pushed himself too far. Sensing this, Ghorbash placed one hand on the Nord mercenary's throat and the other on his stomach before lifting him over his head and flinging him out of the window, shattering the pane of glass.

"Four hundred and seventy-five Septims, nya…" Omiq sighed deeply.

"Pig-head?" Ghorbash inquired as he helped Kai limp back to his bar stool and take a seat. Kai shrugged. "I'm not creative enough."

"Don't we know," Ghorbash muttered.

Kai frowned at the Orc as Omiq chuckled. "Clean up the trash, Ghorbash. I'll look after our injured soldier here, nya."

Grinning, Ghorbash began collecting all the limp bodies and robbing them of their gold before picking them all up and throwing them out.

"Very effective…" Kai said, casting a basic Restoration spell on himself.

"You want me to bandage your head, nya? Wouldn't want whatever brains you have to leak out, now would we?" Omiq offered, placing a healing potion on the counter.

"No. I hate those fiddling bits of parchment… they get on my nerves," Kai shuddered and uncorked the little bottle before taking a sip.

Omiq chuckled. "I see your temper is as volatile as ever, nya."

"Disgusting!" Kai made a wry face before looking back at the Khajiit, "Even if you stand on a new stage, it's still the old you that's standing on it, Omiq."

"That's the smartest shit I've ever heard you spout, Captain. Are you sick, nya?"

"Must be the blood loss," Ghorbash said as he gathered up all the shards of glass and proceeded to inspect the broken table.

"Maybe he's right," Kai smiled and took another small sip of the potion. "If it's all the same to you, I'll have that meal now. This potion has killed my taste buds."

"I thought you were broke, nya? I'm not treating you for free, even if you are my friend." Omiq crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'll pay you back with the money I get after completing the quest, all right?" Kai relented. "I think I need a more permanent job, you know?"

"Well, you won't get a job as a waiter. That's a certainty." Ghorbash chuckled and made his way back outside, dragging the broken table with him.

"A true statement if I ever heard one, nya." Omiq chuckled as Kai scowled at the Orc. "As for the quest, it won't be easy, mind you."

That caught his attention. "How so?"

"That information will cost you twenty Septims, nya," Omiq said and held out his paw.

Kai grimaced. "You're evil."

Omiq clapped his hands happily as he rose, "You noticed! I'm flattered, nya."

"Don't get smart with me. This is my house, after all. I can have you kicked out."

"I quiver with fear, nya," the Khajiit smirked. "Fry and curry with bread and ale, yes?"

"And I'll be staying the night as well."

"Yes, your majesty," Omiq's voice came from the kitchen. "Bedding costs are extra, nya."

He hated that cat with a passion.

* * *

><p>"Beautiful view isn't it, nya?"<p>

Kai was inclined to agree with Omiq, though he said nothing.

"It is," Ghorbash nodded.

The three of them occupied a table on the patio, enjoying the cool night breeze, the fantastic view the spot offered, mead and each others' company.

"They say each time of day brings out a specific shade of the Sea of Ghosts, nya…" Omiq mused as he casually sipped from his half empty bottle.

"I believe that tidbit of information." Kai said, allowing his gaze to wander over the horizon. The sea was drenched with the silvery light of the moon. It was a serene moment… an amazing experience.

"That piece of information will-"

"Oh, shut up Omiq." Kai and Ghorbash said simultaneously.

"Fine. Whatever you two say, nya." the Khajiit said in mock surrender, raising his hands.

A comfortable silence fell between the three friends as they consumed their beverages and gazed out at the sea.

"How long has it been, do you think?" Ghorbash asked.

"Since what?" Kai asked right back.

"Since the formation of Orchestra," the large Orc replied.

"Four years," Omiq replied without skipping a beat, "Almost two years since we disbanded, nya."

"Two years…" Ghorbash whistled. "Hard to believe, isn't it, Captain?"

"I used to believe dragons were legends, Ghorbash." Kai laughed bitterly, "I don't know what to believe anymore."

"You're not the only one," Ghorbash said and stood. "Well, good night to you two. I'm off to bed."

"Sweet dreams!" Omiq and Kai called out after the Orc who waved over his shoulder and went inside.

A chilly gust of wind caused them to shiver.

"It's getting colder." Kai remarked.

Chuckling, Omiq finished his bottle. "It's the middle of Heartfire, what did you expect, nya?"

"Yeah, silly me; the winds are changing… it's almost time for the northerlies to start blowing, bringing the cold from Atmora," Kai mused quietly.

"The Burning of King Olaf is in two days," the Khajiit said. "You won't stay for that, nya?"

"Call of duty, Omiq. Who am I to oppose that?" Kai replied, "Besides, the money matters too. I'm broke, you know."

"Ha ha. Touché friend," Omiq threw his head back and laughed before stopping abruptly. "You know, I've been thinking, nya…"

"About?" Kai asked, bringing the bottle up to his lips.

Omiq reached out, making a motion to wrap his fingers around the moon. "I want to re-form Orchestra, nya."

Kai choked and spat out what he could, thumping his chest and entering a coughing frenzy.

"You seem surprised, Captain, nya."

"Do you even know what you're talking about?" Kai managed to force the words out somehow between coughs.

"Of course I do, nya. That's exactly what it is, though," Omiq sighed and rose to his feet, "Just a thought."

Walking over to his friend, the Khajiit thumped Kai on the back, bringing his coughing to an abrupt end. "I'm turning in for the night, Kai. If we don't meet tomorrow morning, I'll say this now: May Arkay watch over you, friend, nya."

After the Khajiit had retired to rest, Kai placed his feet on the table and sank down on the chair, getting comfortable.

"Re-forming Orchestra, huh?" he asked nobody in particular as he closed his eyes and allowed himself a grin, "What a joke."

The sound of the waves crashing into the shore acted as a lullaby for him. The wind ruffling his raven hair wasn't helping him fight off sleep, either.

Forcing his eyes open, he tilted his head to the side. In the distance, outlined against the starry sky, he could see the College of Winterhold. It always came off as a sinister place to him.

"I wonder what that bastard is doing there right now…" he muttered before yawning.

He could always pay a visit later, right?

Deciding it would be unwise to fight the heaviness of lids any longer, he closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

He had a long trip tomorrow.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: You though it was over, didn't you?**

**Blooper reel!**

**Outtake 1**

"If this is about the Thane position, you can save it, Falk. I want no part of it."

"But why not?" Falk pressed, "You'll be able to walk with pride and with your head held up. Even the Legionnaires will honor and respect you."

Kai stared at Falk for a long while. "Ask me if I give a shit," he said before storming off.

Falk looked helplessly around him. "That wasn't part of the script…"

**Outtake 2**

One of the men tried to punch him, but was way off course on account of being drunk. Kai tilted his head to the right, allowing the gauntleted fist to sail by only inches from his left ear. He then countered with a hard right hook, catching the man under the ear. He then grabbed the man's outstretched appendage and hurled him over his shoulder and into a nearby table. The table broke under the man's weight and he lay there, unconscious.

"Damn!" Omiq swore. "He ain't comin' back in chapter two, nya!"

**Outtake 3**

"Call of duty, Omiq. Who am I to oppose that?" Kai replied, "Besides, the money matters too. I'm broke, you know."

"Ha ha. Touché friend," Omiq threw his head back and laughed before stopping abruptly. "You know, I've been thinking, nya…"

"Good." Kai replied, bringing the bottle up to his lips, "You should do that too, sometimes."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Kai**

"They can declare a 100,000 gold reward for killing a blasted cat, but they can't even construct half decent roads, the lazy bastards."

The carriage went over another ditch, lifting Kai off of his seat and sending him crashing down hard on his rear end for the umpteenth time. _Why were there so many darned ditches?_

Gnashing his teeth, Kai said, "I agree with you, mate… and so does my butt."

The coachman laughed aloud and whipped the horse, speeding it up. They were on the return trip to Ivarstead. Since time was of essence, Kai had convinced the man to drop him off near Ivarstead, which was easier said than done. Ivarstead, roughly halfway between Riften and Whiterun, was quite possibly the only town in the entire province which did not have a direct road leading up to it. What it did have was a barely navigable stretch of dirt and snow, extravagantly riddled with ditches of all shapes and sizes conceivable to the mind and then some. The coachman's angry outburst was nothing if not understandable.

It was late afternoon and the sun would be setting soon. He recalled his rather enlightening trip to Mistveil Keep. True to her word, Maven Black-Briar had kept a neat stack of documents for him to go through. She had also taken the liberty of informing the innkeeper at Ivarstead to keep a room reserved for him. On top of that, she had said that all expenses would be borne by her since it was her responsibility as Jarl to ensure the safety of and in her Hold. Of course, Kai knew that it was in her best interest that she was doing all this; having a man eater roaming free would not encourage pilgrimages to the Throat of the World which translated to loss of business. And Maven would not want that at all.

Speaking of pilgrimages, Kai thought, fifteen out of the twenty-one reported victims claimed by the cat were pilgrims. As a rule, cats were fiercely territorial; they did not hunt in another's territory. That would mean that part of the path leading to the summit belonged to the territory of this particular cat. It would be safe to assume that the cat had a home somewhere up on the mountain, though he could not be sure of this.

Heaving a sigh, Kai looked up at the mountain in question, the Throat of the World, the highest mountain in Skyrim. It was of great spiritual importance to the Nords. Following his gaze, the coach man chuckled, "Us Nords believe that men were formed here when the sky breathed onto the land. Pilgrims travel from across Skyrim to climb the Seven Thousand Steps to High Hrothgar, where the ancient Greybeards dwell in absolute silence in their quest to become ever more attuned to the voice of the sky. Also, the snow at the peak was said to never melt. Funny thing, that."

His curiosity piqued, Kai faced the old Nord. "Interesting. Have you ever climbed the steps, old man?"

"I have. Twice, actually…" the man replied, a faraway look in his eyes, "That was when I had a strong back and even stronger feet. Now, not so much, I'm afraid."

"C'mon you're not _that _old." Kai grinned and let the man reminisce of days gone by. He had his own share of thinking to do.

The documents he had read all had to deal with the reported victims and the steps the authorities had taken. The first case Kai had read about concerned a man by the name of Klimmek. He was a simple man who made deliveries from Ivarstead to High Hrothgar – food, fruits and beverages to the Greybeards. On that fateful day, Klimmek was accompanied by a friend from Dragon Bridge. It was near evening and the pair were smoking and chatting inside Klimmek's house. Klimmek's house was 'L' shaped, with only one door. From where they were seated on the floor, the door was outside their line of sight. This door, the front door, was shut but not bolted because nobody had been killed by the sabre cat in Ivarstead yet. They hadn't lit a fire inside the house as total darkness 'enhances the atmosphere'. It wasn't recorded just what in Oblivion they were smoking

According to Klimmek, it was a cloudy night. Even the moons couldn't have escaped from them. Whether or not this also helped enhance the atmosphere was left to speculation. After taking a lungful, Klimmek passed the pipe to his friend. Instead, the pipe fell on the floor. Cursing at his friend for being clumsy and how his carelessness could've burnt the house down, Klimmek bent down to pick up the pipe. As he did so, the front door came into his view. The door was ajar and through it, silhouetted against a moon which had broken out of the cloud cover, he saw a sabre cat, dragging his friend away by the throat.

For a while, Klimmek was paralyzed. Fear has a way of doing that to you. When he regained his senses, the first thing he did was shut the door and bolt it tightly.

While narrating the incident, Klimmek had said, "When the cat was killing my friend, when it was carrying him away, I, who was sitting so close to my friend, never even heard his breath hitch or any other sound! Believe me, sir, that I am telling the truth. What would I get by lying to you?"

Kai didn't know what to make of this one, honestly. The cat could've easily taken this Klimmek character out as well, but it hadn't. Why, though? That was the biggest question and he was determined to answer it… eventually.

The next one was about two Nord brothers, Vali and Loke. The brothers had a bunch of cows, around twenty or so, and they took these cows to graze in the nearby fields and forests surrounding Ivarstead. It could have been that they hadn't heard about the man-eater, since they had moved there from Falkreath only two weeks ago, or it could be that they thought that their cows would be able to provide the necessary protection. Either way, Vali's twelve year old daughter had also accompanied them on that day.

The two decided to camp outside since it was too dark to be walking home to their village which was roughly seven miles east of Ivarstead. So, after tucking the girl into her bed roll and making sure she was sound asleep, Vali and Loke set out to gather some firewood. They had been gone for about eight minutes at maximum. Upon returning, they found that the girl had disappeared. There were large patches of blood on her bed roll.

Not even one of the cows had been touched.

The two brothers stayed up all night, not daring to close their eyes even for a minute. At daybreak, they followed the trail of blood. The trail led them down a steep slope, up another hill, across three fields and a river, near the foot of the Throat of the World – a journey encompassing roughly five and a half miles.

They did come across the body. Part of the face, the torso and the lower limbs had been eaten. They would not have been able to identify the body had it not been for an amulet of Kynareth that the girl used to wear – a gift from her mother.

Vali had fainted on the spot upon confirming the identity of the body; or what was left of it. Kai found that he could not blame the man.

"My brother has always suffered from rotten luck." Loke had said after narrating the event. "His wife had died only a month before – the main reason we came down to The Rift. But it seems that his bad luck has followed him here."

To Kai, this incident was much more believable. Cats had a tendency of dragging their kill far off places before tucking in, so to speak. The cat had probably been stalking them for a while, he thought. It waited for the perfect opportunity and had taken advantage of it, picking the easiest target it could find.

As for the townsfolk, they had imposed a curfew on themselves. Nobody dared set foot outside their homes after sunset. All work was done during daytime. It was a smart strategy since cats tend to hunt during dusk. Pilgrimages had also been banned. Besides, who in their right mind would want to climb the mountain in this kind of situation?

"This is as far as I go, laddie. There's no road ahead. You'll have to walk," the coachman said, bringing him out of his thoughts, "If you walk down that pathway o'er there, you'll reach Ivarstead in about an hour, considering you don't run into bandits or wolves."

"Thanks for the concern, old man. I appreciate the sentiment," he cracked a smile and disembarked. Walking up to the front of the carriage, Kai held out a small coin purse to the driver, which was promptly refused by the older man with a shake of the head. "I ripped off Falk, son. I'm good for a week," he replied with a cheeky grin. "And besides, anyone willing to end this nightmare deserves at least one free ride. Divines watch over your safety, lad."

With a crack of his whip, he was off. Kai stood there for a few minutes, watching as the carriage disappeared around the bend on the road. Soon, not even the sound of crashing hooves could be heard.

He found it curious how the calming silence could envelop one so completely, should they allow it to do so.

Shaking his head, he pulled his fur cloak tighter around himself and started walking. Though Ivarstead was located in the plains, the cold could get nasty, especially during this time of the year. He had been to Ivarstead enough times to know this for a fact. When he was lad, his master, Kern, would bring him and his senior apprentice to Ivarstead twice a year. Kern had been a pupil of a Greybeard named Arngeir in his youth. From what Kai knew, Kern had left High Hrothgar after a difference of opinion regarding the use of the Thu'um. He then enrolled in the Legion and fought in the war against the Dominion. After that, he retired and raised a family. Kai had been adopted at the age of ten, after Kern's wife had passed away.

Looking back now, Kai considered these trips to Ivarstead among the most fun times he had ever experienced. Kern would always pay a visit to his old mentor and discuss boring topics. For Kai and Ivan, his senior apprentice and Kern's son, it was a chance to settle their rivalry. They would sprint up and down the Seven Thousand Steps every chance they got. It was a test of endurance and both boys were bent upon beating the other. Being two years older than Kai, Ivan would sometimes show his more rational side, stating that he didn't have to climb a mountain to prove he was better. But then again, he was just a twelve year old boy; twelve year old boys were competitive, dangerously so. In fact, the only thing more competitive than a twelve year old boy is a ten year old one. The memory of their 'eternal rivalry', as Kern had come to call it, brought a smile to his lips. What wouldn't he give to turn back time and go back to how things were back then... but he quickly shook such thoughts away. Life was not about 'what ifs' and how doing things differently would've resulted in conditions being different. It was the here and now that mattered. He had to do what he could to make the most of the present. Twenty four hard, long years of being alive had firmly drilled that into his core.

It started snowing as he rounded Shroud Hearth Barrow. He looked up and frowned upon seeing the clouds. Stormy weather was approaching, and it would probably persist for a week at most. Storms meant low visibility and that meant a hard time spotting the target. He paused and took a deep breath. From his vantage point, he could see the entirety of the small town which lay before him. It struck him as odd how the place had not changed much since his last visit about eight years ago. The sun had set now and the only visible source of light came from the inn and from the torches carried by what looked like patrolling guards.

He shivered as a cold wind enveloped him, sending a chill down his spine. Without wasting time, he made for the inn. It was unwise to stay out in the snow, wearing nothing but tattered clothes and a fur cloak. Though the insulated cloak did ward off the cold, it would not be effective if conditions worsened. To him, the prospect of catching the flu wasn't a very welcome one. His body ached from the beating he had received the day before, he did not want anything more on top of that.

As he hurriedly crossed the bridge and walked up to the Vilemyr Inn, he found himself unconsciously rubbing his palms together to generate heat. The patrolling guards had not even graced him with a look, let alone a word. Everybody was on edge, it would seem. He felt bad for the poor bastards. Of course, nobody wanted to be eaten by a giant cat, which sort of explains the party patrolling – strength in numbers.

He pushed open the door and walked inside, closing the door with his foot before a chilly gust of wind could follow him inside. The inside of the tavern wasn't really that special, not that he had expecting anything even remotely special anyway. But it offered warmth, and to a weary and cold traveler, that was worth more than a pile of gold.

Brushing his hair free of the snow, he occupied a barstool and looked around. Other than a Redguard having his dinner, he was the only one in the inn.

"You the, uh, hunter we were expectin'?"

Well, perhaps he wasn't. The barkeep had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He was a Nord, strongly built with a bald spot on his head. The once blonde hair and beard were starting to turn grey. Kai nodded his assent. "What gave me away?"

"We 'ad a letter from Mistveil Keep informin' us tae expect ye." He shrugged before continuing, "Said you'd be arrivin' by today. I knew 'twas you when ye walked in. That crossbow on yer back and the sword on yer waist confirmed it. Though," he chuckled, "wasn't expectin' a whippersnapper like yerself tae show up. How old are you, lad? Have ye made twenty yet, eh?"

Was the bloke being serious? He had trudged through snow, shivered in the cold and had his butt nearly dislocated from his waist, only to be doubted because he looked immature? That pissed him off, somewhat. "I'm twenty four," he said gruffly and pulled his sheathed katana out of the belt and placed it on the barstool to his left; his crossbow he placed on the counter. "Got anything to warm me up, old man?"

"You got the coin?"

Frowning, he threw the man a small coin purse. "I'll be taking a room as well. Maven Black-Briar will be paying my expenses, so don't worry about the supply of coin." Besides, he thought, he didn't have two Septims of his own to rub together.

Opening the small purse, the man meticulously examined its contents and pocketed it. A small smile found its way onto his face as he placed a bottle of Black-Briar mead on the counter, "Take one gulp o' that and you'll forget all 'bout yer long journey," he said, leaning forward, placing his elbows on the counter, "Name's Wilhem by the way. What's yours?"

Kai placed the bottle to my lips and took a greedy gulp. Although his throat burned, he felt the warmth spread all through his body, even warming up his numb fingers and toes, which was an undoubtedly pleasant feeling. He grinned; the stuff was good.

"My name's Kai," he introduced himself as he placed his elbows on the counter and interlaced his fingers before resting his chin on them. "Now then, tell me about this man-eater."

"Kai…" Wilhelm repeated his name a few times, familiarizing himself with the unfamiliar pronunciation. Kai knew that his name was peculiar, even among Nordic names, but it was the only one he had. He liked to think that Nords named their kids after some weird sound which most likely came out of their bottom, and his name was easier to pronounce than something like Ysgramor any day.

"Allow me," another voice came from behind. He glanced over his shoulder to find that the Redguard who had been previously occupied with his meal had gotten up and made his way to them. As he placed his plate on the counter and sat down on the barstool to his right, the man smiled and held out his hand. "Baknar," he said as a way of introduction.

Kai took the man's hand and shook it, "Kai. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Aye, Baknar's the one who disco'ered the latest body," Wilhelm said. "He's more qualified tae discuss this stuff than ol' me."

"Wait. Latest?" Kai cocked an eyebrow. "What latest?"

"Aye, there was one just last night." Wilhelm shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Bad bit o' business, that."

"Another person was taken last night," Kai mused quietly. "Interesting."

"You don't seem surprised." Baknar said, sounding uncertain. Kai looked at him, his expression blank. "Why would I be surprised? I get sent here to deal with a man eater; having been told that time is of essence. Within a few minutes of my arrival, I find that another victim has been claimed just the day before. This was a possibility and I was prepared for it. So no, I am not surprised. Interested yes, but certainly not surprised. Now if you would be kind enough to give me the details, I would be obliged."

He could feel the curious stares Wilhelm and Baknar sent his way as he took another sip of his mead. He didn't mind; most people would disagree with his ideals. He was used to it.

"Very well," Wilhelm said and took his seat across his two customers. "Ye know about how High Hrothgar is a pilgrimage site, aye?"

"It is?" Kai replied sarcastically, "I didn't know that."

Baknar cover his mouth and coughed while Wilhelm raised an eyebrow. "Two nights ago, there came this party o' twenty pilgrims from Bruma; ten men and ten women. Dead on their feet they were. Came bustling in the inn, wanted tae be put up. Told 'em couldn't accommodate 'em all, that I did. But they wouldn't listen. Said they were ready to lie down on the floor if I let 'em. Can ye believe it?" Wilhelm said with a shake of his head. "I said I could at least let the women stay in the cellar for the night. The men would have tae seek shelter among the villagers. Of course, the people would not have forsaken 'em. But that did nae happen."

Kai nodded, silently urging the older man to continue. Wilhelm obliged. "The men said they'd camp out near the Barrow."

"And you didn't stop them?" Kai asked, "You just let them go?"

"I had 'em convinced," Wilhelm spat. "Had it not been for the damned Vigilant they wouldn't 'ave camped outside."

"Vigilant? As in, a Vigilant of Stendarr?" Kai finished off his mead with one last gulp. "What's a Vigilant of Stendarr doing in Ivarstead?"

Baknar cleared his throat. "You see, Maven Black-Briar had declared a reward of 50,000 Septims to whoever could slay the beast. You've heard of this, right? So naturally, a lot of interested hopefuls started showing up."

"'Twas like a manhunt," Wilhelm said and brought out three more bottles of mead before passing them around. "Just they were huntin' no man."

"A total of seventeen hunters dropped by Ivarstead to try their luck," Baknar elaborated after taking a sip. "They set traps, poisoned the bodies, patrolled day and night, but couldn't so much as hurt a hair on the cat's coat. You might not believe me, but the poisoned bodies were left untouched, the traps hadn't even been approached, and two of the hunters were taken themselves. All they caught were a few wolves and foxes," he shrugged. "Somebody started a rumor that the cat was in fact the Daedric Prince Hircine, come to toy with the mortals."

"Hence the Viigilant," Kai nodded. "I understand. You can continue with the story now, Wilhelm."

"Aye, that I will," the man chuckled, apparently pleased with the effect created by his narration of the facts. "Where was I? Oh yes, the Vigilant. Can't for the life o' me remember what 'is name was, I'm afraid. Said 'e was on 'is way tae Markarth. Had a haunted house tae investigate or somethin'."

"Instead he took the detour of a lifetime," Baknar chuckled, "Straight to Stendarr."

"So the Vigilant was the victim?" Kai asked while cradling his bottle. "Care to elaborate?"

"With pleasure, lad. See, when I told the men that they could ask the villagers for shelter, the Vigilant stands up and says that the party could camp outside safely because he'd be with 'em, protectin' 'em." Wilhelm scoffed. "Would tear out the bloomin' Daedra's throat with 'is bare teeth, he said. No matter what I said, the bloke wouldn't listen, so I gave up. If they wanted tae end up in Oblivion that bad, who was I tae stop 'em, eh?"

Wilhelm took a long gulp of his mead. The man had gotten excited, Kai noted. Something had him pretty riled up. He waited patiently for the man to continue; as patiently as he could, anyway.

"So they camped out near the ol' Barrow, they did. Told 'em the blasted place was haunted. But who listens to an old fool these days, eh? There was some treasure 'unter who came a few years ago to rob that tomb. Died there and we've been seeing his ghost wavin' its arms at us ever since. Wyndelus was his name, methinks. Poor son of-"

"Wilhelm," Kai said quietly, biting back his rising frustration. "Tell me about the Vigilant."

"What? Oh yeah. That. I get so easily sidetracked these days. Must be the mead you know?" Wilhelm shook his head. "Where was I again?"

"If they wanted to end up in Oblivion, who were you to stop them?" Kai supplied while pinching the bridge of his nose. His patience was wearing thin.

"Ah, of course!" Wilhelm grinned, oblivious to Kai's mental state. "The men were holed up inside the Barrow itself while the Vigilant sat at the doorway, guardin' 'em. That was how things were when I left 'em that night with spare blankets and ale." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "I'm an early riser, see? I usually get up before dawn. That mornin' was no different. After wakin' up, I thought I might as well check up on 'em, see to it that everythin' was all right. When I did arrive at the Barrow, I found that the men were still sleepin' soundly, but the Vigilant was nowhere to be seen. All I saw was a large puddle of blood. That was when I ran tae Baknar."

On cue, Baknar spoke up. "I usually live here in the inn. That night, though, I had to sleep in Bassianus' house to make space for the women. Just as Wilhelm told you, there was a large puddle of blood where the Vigilant had been sitting. I simply followed the trail. It led to the southern foot of the mountain, where the body was hidden between two boulders. The upper body had been eaten with the exception of the face." Baknar shivered. "Those eyes still haunt my thoughts."

"Will you take me there?" Kai asked, "First thing tomorrow? I need to see it with my own eyes."

"It would be my pleasure." Baknar smiled, "Although it's two days old."

"Doesn't matter," Kai said quietly. "I still want to see it. But first," he turned to face Wilhelm, "I was told that you have a room for me, yes?"

* * *

><p><span><strong>Omiq<strong>

"Fish good. Fish very good. Come and try mister. You won't fall sick."

The Khajiit sighed. There was no way he was getting any customers. Perhaps the Captain had been right; the whole restaurant thing just wasn't meant for him. But he was talented in the art of cooking, he had been told that quite often. So the restaurant was the most obvious choice for him. Having access to Proudspire Manor had made things that much simpler. However, Solitude, being the capital of Skyrim, was well supplied with restaurants and so very few people would drop by a restaurant owned and operated by a Khajiit. Somebody had spread a rumor that they mixed Skooma with the food being served and so the inflow of customers was nigh negligible on any given day.

So it was with great interest and mild surprise that Omiq gazed at the man who had just entered and was making his way over to the counter. He was a Nord, clad in a black cloak which surrounded his body like a blanket. Though muffled, Omiq could pick up the faint rustling of armor coming from every stride the man made. He looked young, about twenty-three years of age. He had a pale face, high cheekbones, an aquiline nose, neatly combed raven hair and sharp orange eyes. He wasn't too thin, but he wasn't too bulky either. He looked like the son of some rich noble.

Omiq smiled to himself. "This one is afraid that blood is unavailable at the Little Elsewyr, nya. Omiq would like to point out that he is a humble servant of Arkay and cannot stand the presence of the undead, nya."

The man smiled good-naturedly. His sharp canines did not go unnoticed by Omiq. "What gave me away?"

His accent was crisp, Omiq noted, "The eyes. Orange eyes are uncommon among mortals, nya," Omiq pointed out as the vampire took a seat across from him. "You really are a sharp one, just as I had been informed."

Omiq bowed deeply. "This one is honored, nya."

The vampire waved it off. "No need to be so formal. So, do you know who I am?"

"Omiq cannot recall having ever conversed with an undead. Being a servant of Arkay does not allow him to enjoy their company much, nya." Omiq replied, sitting down and staring calmly at the new arrival.

"Of course. Pardon me, I should have made an appointment," he said in an apologetic tone. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Firo. I would have offered my hand, but I am afraid you would decline, being a servant of Arkay and all."

"The pleasure is all Omiq's," Omiq returned. "And Firo thought right. This one would have offered some fish, but Omiq was afraid vampires do not take much stock in such delicacies, being undead and all that, nya."

If Firo was offended, he didn't let it show. He merely smirked. "Touché , my good man. You guessed quite correctly. Indeed, I am not here for your fish, though I have heard good things about it."

Omiq raised a curious eyebrow.

"No, what brings me to you on this fateful day is the want of information," Firo stated. "I am told that you are among the best information brokers in Skyrim and since your residence is so close to my own, I thought I would employ your services. Of course, I am willing to pay."

As if to demonstrate his goodwill, Firo reached inside his cloak brought out a plump looking coin purse and set it atop the counter, silently asking Omiq to pick it up and examine its contents. "It contains a thousand Septims. Quite generous an amount in exchange for whatever I am seeking, would you not agree?"

Omiq had to confess, it was a sweet deal. But he had his own set of rules regarding business; rules he was not willing to break for anybody. He placed his elbows on the counter and interlaced his fingers, resting his chin atop them before smirking cheekily at Firo. "Omiq would like to point out the fact that this one deals in information, nya. Indeed, though the sum offered by Firo is generous, this one cannot accept it, nya."

Omiq saw Firo narrow his eyes in confusion and his smirk widened. "In exchange for information, this one asks for information in return. Firo can ask Omiq anything and in return, Omiq gets to ask Firo anything. Sound good, nya?"

"Fair enough," Firo grinned and pocketed the coin purse. "Now then. You have heard of the Dawnguard, I presume?"

Omiq nodded his assent.

"I want to know the exact location of their base."

Omiq considered. It was not business to know why his client would want to know such a thing or what he intended to do with the information. "This information stays confined within these walls," Omiq began. "This one is willing to answer your question, but Omiq wishes to tell Firo what this one plans to ask, nya. Only after hearing it can Firo decide whether or not he is willing to go through with the exchange of information, nya."

"Of course. Sounds like a good enough deal," Firo said and leaned in. "What is it that you wanted to ask?"

"Over the course the past year, this one has seen the steady increase in vampire attacks all over Skyrim. As a counter measure, the Dawnguard has been re-formed, nya. Usually, vampires are secretive creatures who stay in the shadows and pull the strings; never do they engage in direct assaults in public, nya. That got Omiq thinking, 'The vampires must have something big up their sleeves if they are resorting to this.'" Omiq looked directly at Firo. "This is what this one wanted to ask. Is Omiq right in his reasoning, nya?"

Firo's eyes narrowed dangerously. However, his voice was like silky smooth as he spoke. "That is a bit too much, wouldn't you agree?"

Omiq shrugged his shoulders lazily. He was used to such negotiations; they had never worked on him. "Take it or leave it, nya."

For a while nobody spoke. It was a battle of wills and neither was willing to back off. Firo's expression was carefully neutral. For a while, it looked as if Omiq would lose this battle of the nerves, but then Firo grinned. "I like your style, friend. The directness of your question is truly something I have never encountered before." Then his expression hardened. "Whatever I say stays within these walls, yes?"

"Upon this one's honor, nya," Omiq replied.

"Good enough," Firo said. "Tell me, what would you think if somebody were to tell you they could blot out the sun?"

* * *

><p><span><strong>Bloopers<strong>

**Outtake 1**

The carriage went over another ditch, lifting Kai off of his seat and sending him crashing down hard on his rear end for the umpteenth time. He growled, "My rump isn't insured, damn it! Is this why this game doesn't have any damn toilets?"

**Outtake 2**

If Firo was offended, he didn't let it show. He merely smirked. "Touché , my good man. You guessed quite correctly. Indeed, I am not here for your fish, though I have heard good things about it."

Omiq raised a curious eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Indeed." Firo replied with a smile. "I have heard that the fishsticks served here are among the best in the world."

Omiq smirked. "You like gay fish, eh?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Kai**

"That's him?"

"Yes. That's him," Baknar replied with a nod. "Whatever's left of him, anyway."

"No shit…" Kai muttered and crouched beside the remains of the Vigilant's body. It had snowed the night before, covering the corpse with a fresh layer of powder. Kai used a basic Sparks spell to heat up the nearby atmosphere and waited for the snow to melt away.

"Are you a mage?" Baknar asked curiously. "I thought you Nords despised the arcane arts."

Kai shrugged while sweeping his electricity coated right palm over the corpse to speed up the melting process. "It helps. In my line of work, it pays to be self sufficient."

"A true statement if I ever heard one." Baknar replied and took a seat on a nearby boulder. "So tell me about yourself. Why hunting?"

"Well, would you believe me if I told you that I was insanely bored and didn't know what to do with my life?" Kai said absently as the Vigilant's remnants started to take shape. "Of course you wouldn't."

Baknar thought it best not to pry anymore, and as a result, silence fell between them. As the minutes rolled by, Kai found himself getting increasingly flustered by the continuous sound of crackling electricity radiating from his palm. "By Shor's bones, just how much snow was dumped on the half eaten son of a barnacle?"

Right on cue, Kai's fingers grazed the hard bone of the Vigilant's now exposed rib cage, causing him to sigh with relief. He heard Baknar chuckle. "Ask and you shall receive."

"Must've gone for a morning walk around these parts, the heartless bastard…" Kai muttered and shoveled the remaining few centimeters of snow with his bare hands, bringing the corpse of the Vigilant out in the fresh air for the first time in almost two days.

"Should you really be talking like that about a God?" Baknar asked, amused, as Kai began examining the corpse. "Well, a dead God, at any rate."

"Never been one for religion and spirituality, mate." Kai answered before whistling. "Well, what do we have here... come take a look."

Kai shifted a little and made space for Baknar to crouch beside him. "See this here? Those are cat bites for sure. But these right here-" Kai pointed towards the Vigilant's calves, "These are nothing like the ones covering the torso and face."

"Yeah, you're right." Baknar muttered. "It's like something smaller took a few bites outta this. Whaddaya think? A fox?"

"Probably, although it must've been one ballsy fox," Kai muttered in response. "It's highly unusual for any other carnivore to steal from a cat's kill. Even bears stay away. Don't you think this is strange?"

"Well, now that I think about it, that is kind of peculiar," Baknar stroked his beard as he replied. "But is that really important?"

Kai kept silent a while before answering, "Could be nothing. But it's still strange though. Anyway," he sighed, "what about pug marks? Show me."

"I thought you would never ask." Baknar grinned. "Come with me."

Rising to his feet, Kai followed the Redguard along the slope of the mountain due west, towards Ivarstead.

"You know that man eaters have a tendency to prowl near settlements, right?" Baknar said as the duo arrived at the bank of the Treva. "Well, this one's no different. It uses the bridge to cross over to Ivarstead after coming down the Steps. I find fresh tracks here every day. Right about… here!"

"So you know for a certainty that the thing comes down the mountain?" Kai asked as his eyes fell upon the tracks. They were going eastward, towards the Throat of the World.

"Yeah. Seen it coming down myself," Baknar said with a smile and leaned against a tree as Kai crouched on the snow to examine the pug marks. "Quite a story, that."

"Yeah, well it'll hafta wait," Kai said. "Now let's see what we've got here… female, that's a certainty. From the length of the stride, I'd say roughly three feet tall at the shoulders. Nice. That should make it about… six years old, maximum."

"Quite correct," Baknar grinned from his spot. "Do you always think aloud during analyzing?"

Kai shrugged. "It's a habit. You said that none of the sanctioned hunters could even lay a scratch on it, right?"

"Pretty much," the Redguard nodded. "Why do you ask?"

"There's an injury on the rear left paw, see?" Kai pointed out as Baknar came closer to peer over his shoulder. "This toe right here. It's curled backwards."

"Well, guess I hit it after all." Baknar said slowly. Kai craned his neck to stare at him. "What?"

Baknar grinned again, "Told you I had a story."

'Guy grins a lot', Kai thought. "Okay, mate. Let's hear it."

* * *

><p>'Can't they have just brought the Dragonborn out for this job? I'm sure he could've shouted the shit of the cat,' Kai thought. 'Elisif could've just batted her eyelids at him and saved me all the hassle.'<p>

Against popular belief, Kai was a very lazy person. He did not like overworking himself. He had always been this way, and it was unlikely that he would ever find satisfaction in physical exertions. It just wasn't in his nature.

So he did the only thing he could; he whined.

For three days, he had been travelling the region by foot, acclimatizing and getting to know the layout of the land. Adult sabre cats had a territory of about twenty three to forty square miles. Walking that distance, every day, was a tiring experience and it made him more irritable than he usually was.

However, he felt that he couldn't complaint. His mentor had always said that, 'Man has but one destiny.' Even though he didn't believe in destiny or fate, he knew in his heart that he was born to do this; he was born to spend his days under the open sky, doing what he liked, when he liked. There were no rules, no restrictions. He was free, in every sense of the word, to slack off as much he wanted. He would not trade his freedom for anything.

That did not mean he liked working, though.

It was already dark and when he crossed the bridge and re-entered Ivarstead, it had started snowing. The streets were already deserted, which meant that the curfew was already in effect. He felt the stares of the patrolling guards on his back as he pushed open the doors of the inn. The guards had not taken kindly to him. They felt that it was their responsibility to protect the citizens. It was territorial, nothing personal. Ivarstead was their territory, and Kai was an unwelcome outsider here. They let him know that every time they crossed paths with him.

Of course, Kai could see through them. He knew the real reason behind the passive aggressive behavior. It was fear; nothing more nor less. The Ivarstead guards were afraid that the outsiders, namely him, would report their incompetence to the Jarl, thereby resulting in their untimely dismissal. Nobody would want to find themselves unemployed, so it was natural. He could have talked to them, made them realize that their fears were unjustified, that he was not a threat. But he had decided against it in the end. He figured that it would be too much work and he neither had the words nor the patience to convince a few stubborn Nords.

"Back already, eh?" Wilhelm greeted him with a grin and placed a bottle of mead on the counter, which Kai graciously accepted. "Any luck?"

The Nord didn't reply until he had drained half the bottle. He didn't know what Maven Black-Briar put into the bottles, but it was damn good mead. He was probably getting addicted to the stuff. Kai then placed the bottle back down and took a seat across the barkeep, "Lots and lots of pugmarks. Nothin' else, I'm afraid." He paused, "Although, every trail leads up to the Throat of the World. The cat's got a home up on that godsforsaken mountain. I'll bet every Septim Maven sends me on that hypothesis."

"Ye seem awfully confident, lad." Wilhelm grinned again, "And from the looks of it, awfully fagged out. Want somethin' tae eat?"

"You just read my mind. What are you, psychic?" Kai grinned back at the older man. "Yeah, I'll have dinner now and turn in for the night."

"Aye, comin' right up."

Kai brought the half-full bottle back up to his lips and took a small gulp. His mind went over what Baknar had told him three days ago, that crazy bastard.

It was common knowledge among hunters that cats didn't like getting wet. No matter how thick the coat of fur, they would not want to get into the icy cold rivers and streams of the province. So, Barknar had deduced that if the cat was crossing over to Ivarstead, it'd have to do so using the bridge which acted as the town's only way of reaching the Throat of the World. Having established this, Barknar constructed a simple, elevated wooden platform, about ten feet high and shaped like an inverted 'U', a hunting blind, on the Ivarstead side of the bank. Since man eaters had a tendency of wandering near settlements, Barknar was fairly certain that he would get a shot at it.

And he did.

Every day after sunset, Barknar would climb up to his blind and lay there, poised with his bow and arrow, ready to strike. His chance came on the fourth night of his vigil. Fortunately, it was a full moon that night and he could see perfectly as the cat slowly crossed the bridge. So enchanted was Barknar by the sight that he couldn't even notch an arrow, let alone pull the drawstring. "Watching a sabre cat is always an awe-inspiring moment," Baknar had said with his signature grin. "And when said cat is basked in the pale moonlight, there's something about it which paralyzes man, forcing them to stop and admire the elegance and beauty of the undoubtedly majestic creature, even if it is for a fleeting moment." Kai had scoffed and responded with a sarcastic remark, but he knew from personal experience that Baknar was right.

Nonetheless, when he did regain his nerves, Barknar silently cursed everything under the Sun – with a lot of blood and bloom – until he heard the cat coming back. He was delighted to see that it wasn't carrying anything – or anyone – in its mouth. As it was crossing the bridge, clouds started rolling in, obscuring the moons. Cursing his rotten luck – with even more blood and bloom – Barknar threw caution to the wind, notched an arrow, pulled the drawstring as far back as he could and let it fly just as darkness enveloped the surroundings. To his satisfaction, he heard a yelp of pain and the sound of scurrying footfalls. He had hit the cat, though he knew not where.

Now he knew what effect his arrow had had on the cat: his arrow had pierced a single toe in its rear left paw. Not a debilitating injury, but a wounded animal was always more dangerous to track, especially since Kai did any tracking on foot and alone. He didn't know what, but something out there was bent on making this assignment as troublesome as possible for him, of that much he was certain.

"It's human to err, but if you really wanna fuck shit up, involve a Redguard. Wouldn't you agree?"

Kai heard Baknar chuckle. Baknar and Wilhelm had both gotten used to his temper and speech. They both understood that he never meant these insults, that it was just part of his dry, sarcastic sense of humor.

"You were a sailor, weren't you?" Baknar asked.

"Aye, served two years in the Imperial Navy," Kai responded. He then narrowed his eyelids and spun around on his stool to look at the Reduard who was having his supper at the table. "How in Oblivion do you know? Is everyone in this town psychic?"

"It's pretty obvious, really." Baknar shrugged. "You have a mouth like a sailor. Worse, actually."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

It was at this moment that Wilhelm brought Kai's supper, cutting off any further conversation. Baknar finished his meal and retired to bed while Kai was halfway through his. After finishing his food, Kai paid and went outside to stand in the moonlight for a while now that the snowfall had subsided. He did this every night; it was as close as he would get to sleeping outside.

The moons were half full, but there was enough light to illuminate the little town. He could not see the guards. 'Probably off getting some food', he thought. He did not step onto the fresh snow, but remained on the last step. Sighing deeply as the cold night air ruffled his raven locks, he thought back to the events of the Civil War. It had ended about eight months ago. He had not served the entirety of the conflict; he had quit after the incident at Helgen. He shivered. He thought back to what Omiq had said about re-forming Orchestra and frowned. That Khajiit must have no life…

Quite by mistake, he looked down at the snow and froze. For a moment, he even forgot to breathe. On the fresh snow were fresh pug marks, and from the looks of it, it had stopped at the Inn's front door. He crouched near the marks and identified it as the man eater; an injured toe on the rear left paw. Kai knew these particular marks well enough by now.

The cat had followed him down the mountain, and he didn't even realize. It could've taken him at any given instant, but it hadn't done so. Why, he would never know.

Despite himself, a small smirk found its way on Kai's face. At that moment, he forgot all about Helgen, Orchestra, or any other complications in his otherwise complication-riddled life. He had been checkmated in the first round and had been a hair's breadth away from death. The cat had turned the tables and had almost, almost turned the hunter into the hunted; and that thought excited him to no end.

The game was afoot.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Reina<strong>

Reina Coldridge was a smart person and she knew it. Ever since she was a child, she had possessed a sharp wit. It had only been sharpened to a fine point over the course of time. Now, at twenty-three years of age, she was a successful businesswoman and had no complaints with life in general.

Being rich, she could easily sit tight in Riftweald Manor, not lifting a finger and being lazy to her heart's content. There was nothing stopping her from doing so either. Except one thing; she deplored physical and mental inactivity.

That's why she was currently occupying a seat in the Markarth Treasury House, where an auction for old Dwemer artifacts was being held. Everywhere she looked, she saw rich people appraising pieces of junk and bidding for them. Why they spent so much on pieces of scrap metal, she would never understand. She was aware of the high prices these particular items fetched in the black markets as well.

But then again, it wasn't these pieces of Dwemer metal the young Nord was after.

"I assume you are enjoying yourself?"

Reina was not at all surprised when she turned to find herself face to face with Thonar Silver-Blood, the most influential member of the Silver-Blood family. She gave him a polite smile. "Indeed."

"Have you tried the wine?" Thonar asked and motioned for a boy carrying a tray of wine glasses their way. He took two of them and sent the boy away before offering her one of the glasses, "We Silver-Bloods take much pride in our wine."

Still smiling, she took a sip. To her satisfaction, it was indeed magnificent. "Exquisite," she told her host. "Your pride is justified, I must say."

She could see the man's chest momentarily swell with pride. "Of course. The Silver-Bloods are the wealthiest family in the Reach. We ensure everything we serve is of the finest possible quality."

She coyly tucked a stray strand of her long crimson hair behind her ear. "I apologize on behalf of my Jarl," she said in a sweet voice. "Her duties to her people have kept her occupied and thus she asked me to attend in her stead. A man of your position must surely understand."

She knew he had taken the bait when he went a little red in the face and took another sip of his wine. She mentally smirked. Men were such simple creatures; they could never resist a woman who batted her eyelids at them, especially the ones with an unhappy marriage.

"Of course I understand," Thonar replied. "Being Jarl is a burden and a blessing at the same time. Wouldn't you agree, Thane, uh, I'm drawing a blank here…"

She laughed lightly, feigning embarrassment. "My name is Reina Coldridge. You can call me Reina."

"Reina… a peculiar name for a Nord woman," Thonar mused, taking another sip. "If you don't mind me asking, what does it mean? Your name, that is."

She laughed again. This time, she went for a carefree laugh, subtly bordered with elegance. "I don't mind at all. In fact, you're the third person ever to ask me that question tonight," she decided to give him a small tidbit of her life, just to keep him invested. "It can mean queen or summit." She paused and smiled serenely, "My mother gave me that name."

"Well, it's a beautiful name for a beautiful lady," Thonar replied with a smile of his own. "It suits you."

Blushing on cue, Reina smiled coyly at him. "Thank you. You really are too kind."

When Thonar blushed himself, she knew she had nailed it. It was time to reel in the catch.

"It really is crowded here," she began and looked around. "Can we talk someplace else… privately?"

She started toying with a scarlet band which framed her face while looking down at her feet and stealing a shy glance at Thonar. This little trick had never failed her in the past. It was no surprise when it worked on Thonar as well.

"Sure. Making sure my esteemed guests are comfortable is my duty as host."

Things were coming to a head now. She could feel it.

Keeping up her shy façade, Reina fell into step behind him as he led her to the bedroom while muttering incoherently about the great deeds performed by the Silver-Bloods in developing Markarth and the Reach in general. Reina waited. Men always steal a glance behind them to make sure their guest is with them before opening a door. Thonar was no different. He stole a glance at her and opened the bedroom door. He then turned around to usher his guest inside. Reina smirked upon seeing the confused expression playing across his face. She knew that expression very well. She saw it every time she accompanied somebody someplace and the person turned around to see her… gone. They all failed to realize that she was, in fact, standing exactly where she had been when they had stolen a glance.

Ah, how Nocturnal worked in strange ways.

She didn't waste time. Quickly but quietly, she sneaked up behind Thonar and slipped her right arm around the man's neck, crushing his carotids between her forearm and bicep. Her left palm she placed on his mouth to stop any attempts at screaming for help. She then placed her foot on the inside of his knee and applied just enough force to bring him down onto them. With practiced ease, she shook his head a little, just enough to speed up the process of strangulation. She felt him struggling and flailing against her hold, but he was fading fast. Reina did a countdown mentally. Thonar attained unconsciousness just as she reached two, much to her delight. She then picked up the man's limp body and lifted him atop her right shoulder before dumping him on the bed. After making sure he really was unconscious and not dead, she closed the door and disengaged the shadowcloak. Mentally thanking Nocturnal, Reina opened the drawer beside the bed and retrieved a small, square box. Flipping it open and checking the small red gem it contained before snapping it closed, she pocketed it.

"What's yours is mine, love," she smiled at Thonar's unconscious figure, then walked out of the bedroom, a polite smile on her face. She smiled and exchanged pleasantries with anyone and everyone she came across while exiting the Treasury House, taking care not to hurry, since it could arouse unwanted suspicion. When asked, she gave the excuse of being bored, which was true.

She casually whistled as she navigated the lanes of the City of Stone. She always thought that 'City of Stone' was a perfect nickname for Markarth; the streets were stone, the houses were stone, the beds were stone and even the chairs and tables were stone. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if the people here had pebbles and rocks for breakfast. Reachmen were strange.

As in Riften, the guards were in the pocket of the most influential family; in the case of Markarth, the Silver-Bloods. They paid no heed to her as she passed them and made her way to the city gates. A guard opened the gates for her and she quietly thanked her and slipped her a Septim.

Winter was nearly upon the province the Skyrim. She was assaulted by a chilly gust of wind as she exited the city. Sighing, she and tied her long crimson hair into a knot. As much as she loved her hair, she was not a fan of it draping itself on her face.

It was late afternoon, but the duration of sunlight hours had diminished greatly. Darkness usually fell with dusk now. Quite naturally, she made haste to the coach waiting for her at the stables. Once she had climbed aboard, she told the driver to take her away.

"So, had fun with Thonar in his cozy bedroom?"

She scoffed as she heard the coachman chuckle. Older brothers were so stupid…

"At least I had the balls to get the job done, unlike someone I know."

"You have the charm, lass. Old farts fall for you left and right. It would be a crime to not use that to our advantage."

Reina rolled her eyes. "Why don't you just admit that you're a lazy bum, Bryn?"

"You called me a lazy bum?" Brynjolf looked over his shoulder at her, "That's actually very, very hurtful, lass."

"Oh live with it you drama queen," she chuckled and climbed over the wooden divider to sit beside her brother. She then pulled out the small rectangular box and held it out, "Here, the loot."

"Good job. Here, take the reins, lass." Brynjolf said before relieving himself of the reins and taking the box. Reina chuckled as Brynjolf examined the Stone of Barenziah minutely, a big smile on his face.

"Number twenty-three," she announced proudly. "Just one left to go."

"Aye. You're good for a pretty face." Brynjolf agreed and took back the reins, smirking.

"Oh please. It's my charm that gets jobs done, no?," Reina replied sarcastically and let her hair down. She was too much of a good mood to not allow her hair the freedom to fly about.

"I can name two people who are completely immune to your so called charm."

She frowned. "You just had to ruin it, didn't you?"

"I am the older brother. It's my responsibility to ruin your moments."

"Careful with the ego," Reina smirked. "I might just pop it one day."

"I quiver with fear."

Reina elbowed her brother in the ribs lightly. "But seriously. Who were you talking about?"

"Well, one's me."

"Obviously," she replied with an eye roll.

Brynjolf chuckled and whipped the mare. "And the other one you haven't seen in almost seven years."

"Oh him," Reina said quietly. "Yes, it has been a rather long time."

"I'm surprised you still remember him, lass," Brynjolf confessed.

"Women remember the jerks they grow up with, Bryn," she replied casually. "Helps us track them down and stab them while they sleep."

"No wonder you're single." Brynjolf said quietly.

"I'm right here, you know?"

"Anyway," Brynjolf replied and whipped the mare again. "He was in town three days ago."

Reina promptly choked on her saliva. "What?"

"What, what?" Brynjolf mocked his sister and broke into laughter. "You should've seen the look on your face. It was priceless."

"Kai-pie was in Riften?" Reina asked, flabbergasted. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, I didn't see what good it would've done. You rarely leave the house after…" he cleared his throat, "well, after what happened with Mercer. You're always cooped inside, drowning yourself in work."

"Yes, but-"

"No. You will listen." Brynjolf said in what she assumed was his superior older brother voice, which was somewhat amusing. Brynjolf, however, went on undeterred, "You're Guildmaster. You have responsibilities, I get it alright? I've seen Mercer slave away hours upon hours since I was sixteen. But he still took his time outs. His mental health was always extraordinary. I'm not trying to compare you two; I know you are always worried about us and want the best for us, but never forget that we want the best for you too, Reina. We are all worried for you."

He paused a while to gauge her reaction. When she said nothing, he sighed. "You never listened to us, which is something I respect. You've done everything your own way till now, so I won't tell you what to do at this moment, either. Just… just know that even if you are used to the pain, there are people whose hearts break every time they see you hurt yourself, all right?"

She exhaled deeply. "Can we please change the topic?"

She saw him nod and posed her next question. "What was Kai-pie doing in Riften?"

Brynjolf shrugged. "Went to see Maven about the Ivarstead man-eater. Apparently, he was tasked with slaying the beast."

"Tasked by whom?"

Brynjolf whistled a specific tune. It was shrill and high pitched; she recognized it immediately.

"Ah, Solitude," Reina nodded knowingly, "So Maven decided to go to the High Queen for assistance after all."

"Yeah… the world's a small place," Brynjolf said lazily. "So, now that you know, have you hatched some sort of evil plan or something?"

"I have, actually." Reina replied with a small smirk. "But let's wait till he finishes his piece of work. Then we'll go Kai-pie fishing! Ha ha!"

Brynjolf shuddered. "I sometimes wonder why I'm so intimidated by my baby sister…"

She gave him a look.

"And then there are times you answer that question very efficiently."

"Good," she said and patted his shoulder. "Now, home please."

* * *

><p><span><strong>BLOOPERS<strong>

**Outtake 1**

"Ye seem awfully confident, lad." Wilhelm grinned again, "And ye look like ye were hit by a famine. Want somethin' tae eat?"

"Yes." Kai replied. "And you look like you caused one. Wait." He paused, "That actually sounds pretty nice. Let's use that in some future chapter, okay?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Kai**

The sun had just started to rise over the eastern horizon when he decided to sacrifice his bed after a sleepless night. He was a slacker, sure. But no self respecting hunter could hope to sleep after learning that he had been followed by a man eater. So he had gotten up and decided to make some sort of effort to get back at the cat.

He was currently seated in a chair, a small bottle of mead situated on a circular table before him. Across him sat a Redguard, his expression sour. He was not at all pleased by Kai's company and made it known. Kai knew that look; knew it all too well. That was the look people wore every time he asked them for money. Only difference being that he had asked Ennis for a sheep.

"Why should I give you a sheep?"

"There are two methods of plotting to kill a man eater." Kai began his explanation. "The first one is to sit tight and wait for the furball to make a move on its next target. See, the thing is, cats generally don't return to stale carcasses. So waiting by the old corpses to ambush it is a fruitless endeavor; and since I've been paid to kill it before it kills any others, it'd be my ass on the stake if I were to let that happen. So, we're left with the second method, baiting."

Kai paused and used this moment to indulge in the mead which had been offered to him. As he did so, he recalled what Wilhelm had told him about Ennis. Ennis was a former resident of Rorikstead. He moved out of there and into Ivarstead because some idiot had stolen a goat of his and sold it to a Giant. No wonder he's reluctant, Kai thought as he placed the bottle back down onto the table.

"Baiting, as the name suggests, involves tying bait near the last kill site and using that to lure the man eater in. There is a very small chance of the predator falling for the trick, since man eaters never really go back to hunting their usual prey after tasting human blood, but it's a chance I'm willing to take."

He could see that the Redguard was still unconvinced, "Its' kinda like fishing" Kai simplified, "Except there are no fish."

Silence shrouded them awhile. It was only broken when Ennis sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Young man, let me give you a piece of advice," he said rather solemnly. "Go home. You can do nothing here, nobody can. That thing, which people call a cat, is actually a spirit, a Daedra. No mortal has power over it. If it were indeed a being of flesh of blood, do you think that all the hunters who had been commissioned before you would have failed to make even a scratch on it? Do you think anything could move as silently, kill as efficiently as it has and still be considered a being belonging to the mortal plane? You have heard of poor Klimmek's sorry tale, have you not? Do you still doubt my words? Do you not value your life?"

"I appreciate the sentiment." Kai said finally. "But I have been paid to do a job and I will try my level best to fulfill it, no matter how troublesome it is. Make no mistake, it's not remotely supernatural. It's a cat. It's just a bloody cat. Besides," he said as he stood, "if Baknar can wound it, what's stopping me from killing it?"

They held the other's gaze for a few short moments before Ennis heaved a sigh and shook his head. "You have courage, but do not overestimate your abilities, lad. As for the sheep, I have no extra sheep to give you. I will, however, give you a goat. You need not pay me now. Use it as bait. If it should die, you can pay me then. Now if you will excuse me, I must be on my way. My mother is sick and I must go to Rorikstead. I will be back within two days time."

* * *

><p>He cursed his good fortune. Silver linings meant that there was a chance to achieve the objective. And achieving objectives always meant work.<p>

How he hated work.

"Hey mister, you're gonna kill that cat, right? Man, I wish I was like you, ya know, adventurous and all? Life here is so boring! Say, have you ever seen a dragon? Have ya, huh?"

The incessant blabbering of a highly obnoxious twelve year old wasn't helping to achieve said objective, either.

"Yes Lyon. I have seen a dragon." Kai decided to humor him while he secured the goat to a tree with a piece of rope. The goat had a rather healthy bleat. That would prove to be useful while attracting the cat. "A big black pointy scaled thing with red eyes, it was."

"Wow, that is so amazing!" was the boy's reply. His voice was filled with admiration and wonderment. To be fair, had he been in the boy's position, Kai would have acted in much the same way.

"Yeah, very amazing indeed," he replied drily and finished tying up the poor creature. Having done that, he surveyed his handiwork. He had served aboard an Imperial ship for about a year, and as such, had a thing for knots. "Say, don't you have to go home? Your people are probably worried sick about you."

He shrugged, "Nah. They wouldn't miss me. They'd be better off if I never came back."

Kai had no idea how to respond to that one. "I see."

"Hey mister?" the boy began as he started walking back to the village. "What's it like, travelling all over killing stuff? Is it exciting?"

Kai gave the boy a long hard look. The boy, Lyon by name, had become something akin to his unofficial housecarl and stalked him everywhere he went. He was a lad of about twelve; brown hair and lively blue eyes. He wanted to see the world, become an adventurer and a legendary warrior like the Whitestrake, the Hero of Kvatch or more recently, the Dragonborn. He would go on and on about his family, his older sister's love problems, how his father grew lucky cabbages, how he hated the mundane life of Ivarstead, and a whole bunch of other topics Kai had no interest in what so ever. Kai was surprised how he had not lost his temper and thrown the little cretin into the Treva and be done with it. He thought it was probably because Lyon reminded him a lot of himself when he was around that age.

It was at times like these that he mentally praised his old mentor for his patience.

"Hey mister? Mister, mister, mister, mister…"

"What?" Kai snapped and pinched the bridge of his nose in order to bite back his temper. They were on the bridge leading to Ivarstead and it was very tempting to pick up the boy and just throw him as far as he could. But he thought better of it at the last second.

"Why don't you marry my sister?"

How Kai did not trip and plant himself face first into the snow, he would never find out. Maybe there was a God up there that stopped people from tripping and falling upon hearing random bullshit? Somehow, he highly doubted it.

"Think about it!" Lyon went on, elation radiating from his every gesture. "If you marry my sister, you'd be like my real brother! And then you'd have to take me on your every adventure and when you and Fastred make babies, I'll be there to train them and-"

What else he had in store to punish his poor ears even further Kai would also never know because at that precise moment, the infamous sister came up to them, effectively shutting Lyon up by smacking the boy upside the head.

"Lyon, how many times have I told you to not pester the poor man? He has enough on his plate without having to put up with your constant banter."

"We were just talking about him marrying you, sis!" Lyon told his sister, a grin plastered on his face. Fastred blushed slightly and bowed to him. "I am sorry for his behavior. He can be very irritating sometimes."

Kai awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. Don't I know, he thought.

"But Fas – ow! That hurts!"

Kai watched as Fastred led Lyon away by the ear. How that must've hurt. Yet somehow, Kai did not feel even a shred of pity or anything akin to pity for the lad. Shaking his head, Kai made his way to the Inn. There wasn't much he could do now except wait for the cat to take the bait. An unlikely event, but optimism did pay off sometimes. At least, he hoped it would.

* * *

><p>Optimism did indeed pay off.<p>

Waking up the next day, Kai hastened to the goat and found that it had been killed. Of course, it hadn't been eaten. Kai couldn't really blame the cat. A powerful and incessant bleat like that would annoy anybody. Unfortunately, annoying a sabre cat was equivalent to sending an invitation for it to slap the head off of the person in question's shoulders. In this case, it was the goat.

He examined the pug marks littering the snow. A single toe on the rear left paw was injured; folded backwards. That settled things for him. This was the man eater's work and there was hope yet.

Hurrying back to the Vilemyr Inn, Kai gobbled up a hasty breakfast, the contents of which had escaped his memory completely as he ran back up the slope to the kill site.

There were a few things he had to do. Firstly, he had to find himself a tree strong enough to support his weight. Judging from the pugmarks, the cat will most likely come from the direction of the Throat of the World.

The mountain was to his left, that was, due west. Taking the goat's body as the centre, he had Ivarstead to the east. To the north and south was open wilderness. Kai turned and walked backwards, due south. There was an old tree; big, strong. It provided ample cover. He could see without being seen. Perfect.

Picking out a branch about ten feet above the snow, Kai took his seat. He could see the dead goat lying before him. To his left was the mountain. The distance between him and the bait was roughly thirty yards, give or take a few. It was within range. The crossbow had an effective range of about forty yards. In fact, a veteran could shoot a deer about fifty yards away.

Hypothetically, the cat would come down from the west. It should stop and sniff the bait, thereby exposing its side to him. This was the most important thing.

"So what're you gonna do, mister?"

"Holy shit!" Kai swore and almost fell out of the tree. "Lyon! What're you doing here?"

"I followed you. Duh."

Kai loved how he just admitted to an activity such as stalking in such a casual manner as that. But since he was asked, he might as well answer.

"When you attempt an elevated shot, you should always aim for the region where the neck joins the shoulder." Kai said. "That way, you have a chance of piercing the windpipe or the carotid artery of the target; a one shot kill. That's what I hope to do. Happy?"

"But how about when you're on land?" Lyon persisted. "You can't always climb a tree, you know."

"When on land and facing the target, always aim between the eyes; another one shot kill." Kai answered again. "Of course, you'll only get one shot."

"Why?"

"That's because the crossbow is a noisy weapon. If you miss, the target will get spooked and run in case of an elevated shot. If you're on the ground," Kai chuckled drily, "Well, you might wanna throw in a prayer to whatever deity you worship."

Kai propped the crossbow atop his right knee and lined his right eye with the tip of the crossbow bolt. He had a clean shot between two branches. Smiling slightly, Kai jumped down onto the snow.

"Since you're here… and not utterly disgusted by a headless goat," Kai muttered the last part. "Why don't you make yourself useful and go find some black rocks?"

Lyon looked puzzled. "Black rocks? What for?"

"Well, it's troublesome to aim for a snowy sabre cat walking around in a snow covered terrain while visibility is low." Kai confessed. "The black rocks will stand out against the sonwy terrain and if the cat comes, some of the rocks will be shadowed by its body, giving me a better idea as to where to aim."

When Lyon gave him a curious look, he added, "Not saying that I don't trust my vision, no. I just don't want to take any chances."

Lyon's face brightened almost immediately. "On it!" he said and bolted off faster than a rabbit.

"Huh." Kai said aloud. "If that's all it takes to get rid of him, I should just feed him some bullshit information every time he opens his mouth."

It took Lyon about an hour to find six black rocks the size of Kai's closed fist. They scattered them around the bait in a circle and started walking back to Ivarstead. The cat usually came out around dusk. It wasn't even noon then. Kai scratched his head. He had a lot of time to kill.

"Why don't you come over to our house for dinner?" Lyon asked. "I bet you have nothing else to do, huh?"

The fact that he was not pissed off by the lad's smugness pissed Kai off somewhat. But then again, he had eaten nothing till breakfast and if he could skip a meal at the Inn, that would save him a few Septims; Septims he could pocket. He only saw benefits from accepting the boy's proposition.

"Ya know what?" Kai finally said. "I am hungry."

* * *

><p><span><strong>Josak<strong>

"Tell me, are ya afraid?"

A choked whimper was all he heard. He grinned. This was always fun.

"You remember what I told you when you were brought into the family, right? In case you've forgotten, allow me to refresh your memory," he slipped his hand around the man's throat while clearing his own dramatically. "I really, really hate incompetence."

With his other hand, he pulled back the assassin's hood. It was an Imperial boy of around seventeen; new recruit who'd lost his nerve and fucked up a contract. Unacceptable.

"All ya hadta do was grab 'em by the throat like this," he grinned. "And squeeze and squeeze until they foam like a dog and then squeeze some more… and their eyes are about to pop out and then you squeeze just a little more…"

A loud snap echoed throughout the hall.

"And then just a quick goodbye," Josak smirked as he let go of the boy's throat and watched his lifeless body slump to the ground. "They don't make necks like they used to… snap too easily. Not satisfying at all."

He turned just in time to see Nazir roll his eyes. The Redguard was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "That's the second one this month. Recruitment is hard enough without you snapping necks left and right."

"Make sure not to recruit virgins then." He grinned, "Babette! Wipe the trash off of the floor."

"Why should I?" the girl hissed from her quarters. "Just because I look like a ten year old child doesn't mean you get to order me around. I'm two hundred and ninety eight years older than you. Show me some respect!"

Josak turned his head to look at the vampire with a smirk. "You're the fucking bloodsucker among us. That gives me all the rights in the world to order you around. Now fucking get to it."

"Such logic," Nazir grinned as Babette went to work, uttering a string of curses under her breath.

"I always was the logical one." Josak occupied a chair and leaned back, resting his boots on the dining table, "I tell ya, these fucking youngsters. They piss me off, ya know? They run away from home and join guilds as if it's some fucking game. They should know that the Brotherhood has high standards… very high fucking standards."

"He was just sixteen…" Nazir argued. He paid no attention to Babette as she dragged the boy away by his heels.

"I had killed seven people at that age, Nazir. Age has nothing to do with it," Josak replied and watched Babette drag away the boy's corpse to her chambers.

Sighing, Nazir sat down on a chair as well. "So now what? Has the Night Mother spoken to you yet?"

Placing his hands behind his head, Josak leaned back further, balancing on the rear two legs of his chair. "Not since the bastard Motierre. Man, that contract was so much fun!"

Nazir scoffed. "That contract destroyed the Brotherhood."

Josak grinned. "So? I spilled royal blood to compensate. I fucking hated the Emperor."

"And why, pray, is that?" Nazir drawled, clearly uninterested. He wondered just where from he would get another recruit.

"Ya see I hate the kinda people who think they can't be harmed, like they're some sorta fucking God." Josak closed his eyes. "They always stay in the sidelines, pulling the strings. They watch as the world around them goes to Oblivion. People like that piss me off. I hate their kind, the cocksuckers. And I love to kill people like that. It doesn't even matter whether they're weak or strong. The people I love to kill are the ones that really get me excited... never see it coming. They're in some happy place where they're sure nothing can get them. Dying is the furthest thing from their minds. Maybe they're thinking about what they're gonna have for dinner. Just like the Emperor was. Right before I walked in."

"Interesting," Nazir replied.

"Of course, there are people that I like too. I love to kill their kind even more." Josak's grin grew wider. "There are two types I like. First, there's the kind that puts their lives on the line and fight. They are a pleasure to kill. The look in their eyes… they fear death, see? They know they can die, and they still fight. Not like the bastards who stay in the shadows."

"And what's the second kind?" Nazir inquired.

"The second kind-" Josak began before his eyes shot open and he sat straight up, bringing the chair down on all fours. "Yes. I see." He grinned. "It'll be done."

"The Night Mother?" Nazir enquired curiously.

Josak nodded. "This one's of the second kind."

The Redguard raised an eyebrow. "And what, pray, is that?"

"The second kind," Josak smirked smugly, "Are the bastards only I can kill."

* * *

><p><strong>BLOOPER REEL<strong>

**Outtake 1**

"Admit it." Omiq leaned in. "You missed me in this chapter didn't you, nya?"

"Not the foggiest." Kai replied.

"Not even an itsy bitsy bit?"

"Nope. Not even an itsy bitsy bit. Besides," Kai put down his script and locked eyes with the Khajiit. "I'm allergic to your fur."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Josak**

He wasn't new to Riften. In fact, he had to make the trip to the place twice a year in order to renew his contract with Maven. As such, he knew the filthy dump well.

But just because he knew the place didn't mean he had to like it.

"This whole fucking town smells like shit," he swore under his breath. "Something about it bloody pisses me off!"

How the people put up with the stink, he could never tell. The canal circling the city centre smelt of Horker shit mixed with Troll piss with just a pint of Giant sweat. That alone was enough to drive anyone bonkers. Josak mentally praised the durability of the Riften people. These shitheads sure knew how to survive… he wished he could just turn off his olfactory senses like that.

He rounded the marketplace. It was late now and none of the shopkeepers were present, drowning the usually bustling area into an eerie silence. Not that he minded. In fact, he preferred it this way; especially for this particular contract. Usually, he wouldn't give two shits about carrying a contract kill in broad daylight. But killing Grelod the Kind in public just didn't seem… enough. How he wanted to rip her limb from limb… scrub her face against a wall… or better yet, string her up like an effigy and beat the fucking shit out of her… oh, there'd be so much blood! The very thought made him giddy.

As he stopped in front of Honorhall, he couldn't help but grin. The very thought of spilling someone's blood made his own blood boil. It was so damn exciting! He wasn't wearing his usual red and black armor. Instead, he was dressed in light leather armor; kind of like those worn by the Thieves' Guild douches. Maven had very generously given him a set upon his request. The Guild members were scum, but they did have a sense of style.

He expertly climbed the wall and landed on the grassy courtyard, rolling forward to diminish the strain on his knees. He crouched low and waited. He didn't want to wake up the residents. At least, not before he had killed Grelod. There was a door right in front of him. He went up to it; locked, as expected.

Weaving his fingers in the air, he cast a simple Frostbite spell on the rusty lock, effectively freezing it. Pulling his fist back, he threw it at the now frozen lock, breaking it easily in two. Not exactly subtle, but he'd rather die than learn to use one of those damned lockpicks. He examined his bleeding knuckles and smiled. Blood was so damn beautiful. Again, he waited a moment. Breaking ice sounded a lot like breaking glass. It was bound to have woken somebody up. Pressing his ear to the door, he tried to listen for any noise. As expected, there was some murmuring going on. Although he couldn't distinctly make out the words, he knew that these were children. As much as he hated the little bastards, he had a rule. He didn't kill children.

On second thoughts, perhaps he should've learned to use a fucking lockpick after all.

He waited for what seemed like about ten minutes before the murmuring went down, replaced by the sound of soft breathing. He waited another few minutes before pushing open the door and creeping in, silently closing the door behind him. He found himself in a hall of sorts. It had five beds and a fireplace. The beds were occupied by five children, all of whom were fast asleep. His first impulse was to wring their necks just in case but he decided against it.

As silently as he could, he made his way to the other side of the hall and was met with two doors on either side of him, both of which he guessed led to bedrooms; one of which was occupied by Grelod and the other by Constance Michel, Grelod's assistant. Judging from the decorations on one of the doors, he guessed that it was Grelod's. He tried the door and was surprised to find it unlocked.

Strange… something wasn't right. He felt it in his bones.

Ignoring his gut feeling, Josak entered the room.

Nothing could've prepared him for the sight before him. Before he knew it, he was grinning ear to ear.

Blood. There was a pool of blood on the floor, dripping from the bed on which Grelod lay. Approaching the side of the bed, Josak could feel his entire body tingling with excitement and merriment.

Grelod's face had been shaved clean off. There was also a long, deep vertical cut starting from under her chin and ending at her sternum. The murder weapon was a dagger, of that he was certain. But what kind of dagger was this to have cleft off a person's face? He would worry about that at some later time. Right now…

"Wow," Josak began, voice radiating mirth, "Would you look at this? It's unbelievable!"

His voice was rising an octave every word he spoke. He couldn't help it; the sight of blood got him excited like no other.

"Sweet Mother of Sithis in Sovngarde! Why is there so much blood?" he asked nobody in particular as he stood on the puddle of crimson on the floor. "What kind of thing could make such a beautiful mess? Wait! Hold on a second! Could it be… is this lady without a face the woman they call Grelod? Fuck! You're blooming unrecognizable!" He took Grelod's faceless head by the hair and brought it closer to his face for inspection. He then held Grelod by the shoulder and started shaking her violently. "C'mon man! Tell me who did this to you right now! How are we to avenge our contract if you can't talk, much less find your own face! Oh Grelod, you poor, poor faceless bitch! You denied the Brotherhood the simple act of vengeance!"

He then let go of Grelod, and took to dancing a jig on her blood, laughing maniacally. "I CANNOT WAIT TO MEET THE GENIUS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS MASTERPIECE! I'LL TAP DANCE ALL OVER HIS FACE, LIKE I'M A GODDAMN ORC!"

"What is going on? Who's the- Oh Divines! G-Grelod!"

Josak turned to find a younger girl leaning against the doorframe, mouth covered by her hands and muttering incoherent prayers. Annoyed, Josak put his finger to his lips.

"Shh! Keep it down, would ya? I'm tryna concentrate here!"

* * *

><p><span><strong>Firo<strong>

"You have disappointed me."

He clenched his jaw, "Yes, milord."

He could hear the others snickering, the bastards. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Orthjolf grinning ear to ear, smug prick as he was.

"You realize that the only reason I am even tolerating your presence is because I think you may still be of some use to me."

"Yes."

"You had been tasked with a simple quest." Harkon's deep voice reverberated along the dining hall. "You were to retrieve an item of interest and bring it back. You failed to do even that, Firo."

"Apologies, milord. I ran into unforeseen… complications."

"Indeed? Pray, do tell me about these… complications."

Firo sucked in a breath, "The Dawnguard, milord."

Murmuring broke out among the Vampires seated at the table. They were soon silenced as Harkon opened his mouth.

"Elaborate."

Though there was no change in his tone, Firo could sense a hint of exasperation in the ancient Vampire's voice.

"I had the Bloodstone Chalice. But I was ambushed by Stalf and Salonia Caelia, both of whom wanted the item for their own interests. They charged at me,and I had no choice but to put them down."

Though Vingalmo maintained a carefully neutral disposition, he could see Orthjolf sigh in relief. He made a mental note to tell Harkon that his two senior court members had their own plans on overthrowing him. That would tone down Orthjolf's arrogance and Vingalmo's… elfishness. That's something he wouldn't miss for the world.

"Go on." Harkon urged, somewhat impatient.

"And that's when they arrived, the Dawngurad." he hissed. "Five of them: a bald Redguard, an Orc, a Breton, a female Nord and a female Bosmer. They wielded crossbows and were equipped with spells mimicking the effect of the Sun. I had no choice but to retreat."

The great hall was drowned in silence as the Lord of the castle stroked his beard, deep in thought.

"These Dawnguard pests are starting to annoy me." Orthjolf broke the silence. "Allow me to crush them, Lord Harkon. They are nothing but a petty nuisance."

"Do not make the mistake of underestimating them, you oaf." Vingalmo spoke out. "Rash decisions never result in any good. We should take our time, study their strengths and weaknesses. After all," he snickered, "We have all the time in the world… time they don't have."

"So what're you suggesting? We stay cooped inside the Castle holding our dicks while the enemy gains ground on us?" Orthjolf bellowed.

'Ever the impatient one,' Firo thought.

"But what of the Chalice?" Garan Marethi voiced his query. "Do you know what became of it, Firo?"

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I could barely escape with my life."

Silence fell over the dining hall again. Everybody looked to Lord Harkon, their leader, the only person who could shape their course of action.

And he delivered.

"Hmm. It seems that Firo is not at fault in this situation. You may consider yourself pardoned, but keep in mind, do not get used to my act of leniency. You have still disappointed me."

"Thank you, Lord Harkon." Firo muttered under his breath.

"As for the Dawnguard, well, the insects have overstepped their boundaries and need to be reminded of their place."

Puffing out his chest, Orthjolf stepped forward. "Lord Harkon, let me take care of them!"

A cold glare from Harkon sent the Nordic Vampire cowering back to his place. Vingalmo chuckled silently.

"The Dawnguard are mongrels… lesser beings. As such, I do not wish to stain our hands with their blood… and yet," Harkon stood from his throne and started pacing, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. "Something must be done. They must be reminded of just what they are dealing with… they must learn the consequences of stepping on my toes. And learn they shall."

Stopping his pacing, Harkon's eyes gazed over the members present at the hall, as if searching for somebody in particular and soon his lips curled into a devious smirk. "Lokil!"

The Nordic Vampire in question hurriedly rose from the table and approached the throne before geeting down on one knee before Harkon, mimicking Firo's posture, "Yes, milord?"

Spreading his arms wide, Harkon addressed his court regally. "These mortals need to be reminded of how weak they truly are… they need to be reminded of their vulnerabilities. And we are going to do just that. We are going to send them a message, make a statement."

He then looked down at Lokil, "Rise, both of you."

As they rose to their full height, Firo glanced at Lokil on his left from the corner of his eye. The man was an old devotee of Harkon and so, it was quite natural for him to have an agenda of his own.

"As I said, I do not wish to stain our hands with unworthy mortal blood. The Dawnguard has to know fear. They must learn to fear the Vampire, fear the Volkihar clan! And so, they will bear witness to our might. We will show them what we can do!" Harkon's charismatic voice boomed throughout the dining hall. Harkon grinned crookedly, sharp canines flashing in the light.

Firo winced. Nothing good ever came of that.

When Harkon concluded his speech, Firo's gut feeling was realized.

"I want you two to raze the Hall of Vigilants to the ground. Leave not a single mortal breathing. That ought to be a strong enough message."

Bowing, Lokil and Firo turned to leave. However, Firo was stopped by Harkon as the latter placed his hand firmly on Firo's right shoulder. Though his grip was like iron, Firo didn't flinch. That didn't mean it didn't hurt, though.

"Try not to fail me again, boy." He heard Harkon hiss.

He didn't have to turn around; he knew that the Vampire Lord's orange eyes were ominously boring into the back of his skull. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, he would attest to that.

Firo nodded. "Yes, father."

* * *

><p><span><strong>Omiq<strong>

Cooking was an activity, perhaps the only activity, in which he found absolute peace. It commanded all his attention and kept his mind from wandering off to other, less desirable topics. Like what the undead Nord had told him a few days ago.

Something about blotting out the sun, the unholy bastard had said. Omiq would've laughed it off, but he couldn't. He had seen enough crazy bullshit over the years and had come to accept the fact that weird things happened in this world, no matter how improbable they seemed to be at first. By Arkay's beard, if indeed such a thing was to happen…

He took the previously marinated pieces of the fish and placed it on the pan, allowing it to soak up the oil. He was aiming for a shallow fry. The salt and turmeric marinate added to the scent and Omiq knew then that the end product would taste good.

As he held the metallic utensil over the small fire, he felt a strange sense of satisfaction. He had created something, something good; something he knew people would enjoy. In that moment, he felt stronger than almighty Arkay; he held in his hand the power to make people smile through his food. It was an empowering feeling, if nothing. But then his brows furrowed.

Power. The Vampires would run amok if they could actually achieve that. He still doubted the sincerity behind the immortal old bat's words, and with good reason. Vampires were, by nature, cunning, manipulative and treacherous… exactly like his own kind. The thought curled his lips into a wry smile.

However, this Vampire in particular, Firo, had stated his case with absolute sincerity and a mocking smile. Sincerity, Omiq knew, could be faked. However, Firo would have to be an actor of amazing caliber to have pulled that off.

"He's had centuries of practice, no doubt." He muttered to himself as he shook the pan, allowing the fish to fry evenly. Of course, the part that bothered him was that mocking smile the Vampire wore. It was as if he was trying to say, 'Go ahead. Do what you can.'

Perhaps, there was some truth to it after all. He sighed and stepped away from the small stone stove and placed the now fried fish onto a plate. He would have some digging to do; have to pull a few strings. He prided himself with the astuteness of his information. What would he tell the blokes of the Dawnguard if they suddenly decided to show up on his doorstep now? He would never allow himself to sell information he himself was not sure of.

"Ghorbash!" he called out, "Food, nya!"

"Perfect timing," the Orc said as he appeared indoors, an envelope in hand. "It's for you, from Karthspire."

"Karthspire?" Omiq enquired and took the letter from the Orc's outstretched hand. "Oh, tuck in."

"Don't mind if I do," Ghorbash replied and pulled the plate of fried fish towards himself. "What does it say?"

Omiq sighed as he glanced over the letter. "Some girl died, nya. The village head wants me to bless her grave, give her the rites… things like that, nya."

Ghorbash nodded. This happened fairly often. Omiq, though a Khajiit, was a priest of Arkay to the core. He often got calls to perform burial rites in Solitude and nearby villages, though a request had never come from as far away as Karthspire. "When did she die?"

"This morning, it seems. Cause of death has not been mentioned."

"You gonna take it?"

Omiq sometimes wondered how the Orc could talk so clearly while having his mouth stuffed.

"Yes. Doesn't hurt to earn some extra coin, does it?"

"So when do you leave?" Ghorbash asked again.

"This evening." Omiq replied and finally sat down to eat. He would now suspend all thought regarding other topics and let his senses get bombarded by the fishy goodness.

Karthspire was a good enough place to start, anyway.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Kai<strong>

His life had always been a pain.

Kai had to pay Lyon ten Septims to keep the little leech from accompanying him that day. Although there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth, he had stood firm on his decision. It was only when he had flashed the gold that the boy had promised to not follow.

Now, as he sat atop his designated branch, Kai couldn't help but feel bad for his poor coin purse. The few Septims he had saved by eating with Lyon's eccentric family were the ones he had used for bribing the boy. Had it not been for Maven paying on his behalf, he wouldn't have been able to afford his room at the Inn, wouldn't have been able to afford his food and most importantly, he wouldn't have been able to afford his mead. In fact, his financial condition was so pathetic that he couldn't even afford a decent set of clothes.

He looked down at the tattered vest and trousers and sighed. He seriously needed a change.

Kai's attention was momentarily diverted by a sudden wetness on the tip of his nose. Flustered, he looked up at the sky visible through the foliage and gnashed his teeth.

"Fuck my luck…"

Clouds had gathered, and by the looks of it, it would pour hard. Of course, he should've prepared for this. Ever since the day he set foot in Ivarstead, the weather had been acting strange. It snowed, yes; rain was probably the worst thing that could happen in this situation however. Hypothermia was a bitch.

As the first few drops fell, Kai considered going back to the inn. Visibility was already low. With the rain coming down, it would become nigh impossible to see two feet in front, let alone aim and fire. But then again, he finally had a chance. A very slim chance, but a chance nonetheless. If he let this one slip away, who knew when, or if, he would get another. He sighed in frustration and tried his best to pull his knees towards his stomach, propping the crossbow on top of his left knee. He knew enough to keep his core temperature warm. If he lost all his body heat on account of the bloody rain, he'd be frozen stiff in a couple of minutes. The chilly gusts of wind weren't much help either.

To put it simply, he was screwed… as usual.

A flash of lightning tore through the sky, illuminating his surroundings and offering Kai some amount of clarity in vision. Not that there was much to look at. He shivered. He did all he could to stop his teeth from chattering… and was rewarded with some success. His shaking body though was a different story entirely.

Kai felt his eyes growing tired as the rumbling thunder numbed his hearing. The sudden urge to just close his eyes and go to sleep was overpowering his senses. It felt like the most natural thing to do. Had he not been chilled to the bone with his core temperature dropping by the second, Kai would have probably advised against taking a nap in the Skyrim rain. Probably.

He forced his eyes to stay open. Minutes felt like hours. Or did hours feel like minutes? He didn't really know, didn't understand and he didn't want to. He tried flexing his fingertips around the crossbow's lever. It was hard. He was barely able to move them. That… was not good.

For a while, he played with the notion that he would die there. Then he smiled and tried to recount the number of times he had had that thought that before. Too many times…

At that moment, he was rewarded with another flash of lightning. This time, he did see something. It was feral, quadruped and fucking massive. It had canines the size of a horse's head and it was bent over the bait.

How long had it been there?

Who gave a damn about that?

Kai tried to bring his face close to the crossbow. It was frustrating. He couldn't even judge the distance clearly. After what felt like a lifetime, he was finally able to line up his eyes with the tip of the bolt. He mentally cursed the cold.

"C'mon… light me up…" he muttered. Even moving his lips was a pain. Usually, he would keep mum in this kind of situation; the reason being that cats had exceptionally good ears. But Kai doubted it could hear his voice over the constant din of the torrential downpour.

His heart was pounding with excitement… which was bad. His body was doing its best to conserve heat. Kai doubted this kind of hammering did anything to help that cause. He took a deep breath and calmed himself, his mind miraculously clear. Instinct, he thought sourly.

It took a few minutes to calm down his stubborn heart. It grew stable, rhythmic, and slow. Kai tightened his fingers around the lever. They were almost numb. Almost. That meant there was life in them yet.

"Work with me, body…"

He hoped the cat was still there. Although, what the Oblivion was it doing with a goat? Man eaters didn't eat goat… and he didn't think it came to sniff. Of course, cats scavenged. Due to the curfew of the villagers, the man eater had been driven to resort to desperate measures. Desperate times, after all.

And then came the lightning.

It lit up his field of vision. The cat was still there, its side exposed to him.

'Never release while excited. Slow your heartbeat, stay calm and fire between the valley of two heartbeats for maximum accuracy.'

That was something his mentor, Kern, used to say when he had been an apprentice so long ago…Of course, Kai had had a lot of practice in doing that.

_Thump. _

Time slowed down in that instant. The light from the lightning was starting to fade. This was his chance. Kai forced my numb fingers inwards, and with the usual report, the bolt flew.

_Thump. _

The valley between two beats; easier said than done.

As usual, the recoil from the shot jerked his body forwards before pushing back at him. It was too much for him to handle in his weakened state and Kai toppled backwards and fell from the branch, landing on the wet snow with a soft thump.

As the rain laid siege to his body, hammering down upon him without remorse, Kai felt his consciousness fading. It was a comfortable feeling. He couldn't complain. Instead, he welcomed it. It was just like falling asleep… except, Kai realized he didn't expect to wake up again.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Well, now. A hundred views already. Thank you, people for clicking on the story. I love all you stalkers! Keep clicking, and I hope you enjoy yourselves.**

**Chapter 6**

**Kai**

"Hey mister, can I touch it? How big was it? How big were its muscles? How big were its teeth? What color was its coat? Is it a Daedra? Is it really dead? Did its breath smell of garlic? Tell me, tell me, tell me…"

Kai swore under his breath. This brat was enough to depreciate anybody's mental health.

"I'll tell you what." He said, plastering a weary grin on his face. "Take off on a run. If you can reach the kill site before us, I'll let you examine the cat to your heart's content. What say you, Lyon?"

He didn't grace them with an answer, instead flashing an ear to ear grin before sprinting.

"Energetic lad, that one," Baknar commented with a chuckle.

"Yeah," Kai replied, "A bit too energetic."

"Should you be moving around?" Baknar asked with his brows raised. "You almost froze to death."

"How long was I out again?"

The Redguard shrugged. "Two days."

"That's all the reason I need to be walking around," Kai replied drily.

Baknar had found him on the snow two days ago. He said it was nothing short of a miracle that Kai was still alive. Had Baknar found him a couple of hours later, Kai wouldn't be having this conversation with him.

While Kai was on his tree, Baknar was on the mountain, tracking deer; a failed endeavor. When the rain came, he was forced to take shelter under a rock outcrop. He had assured Kai that it had not rained for more than an hour.

When the rain had stopped, he stumbled onto the bizarre sight of Kai lying spread-eagle on his back in the snow. Baknar had reasoned that Kai was not daft enough to use the snow for a bed, so that left only one other plausible solution: he must've passed out. Having established aforementioned fact, he had dragged the unconscious and nigh frozen Kai all the way back to Ivarstead where he was bedridden for two days.

Kai had been down with fever; delirious even. Wilhelm said that he had been spewing gibberish all day long. He had to resort to thumping Kai over the head with a broom to put him to sleep.

Lots of healing potions later, Kai finally regained his ability to stand. As soon as he could, the Nord had expressed his desire to see the cat.

Baknar had Kai's right arm draped over his shoulder and his left arm around Kai's torso. The Nord had been too weak to be walking independently, so they had to resort to this. What would've taken him ten minutes took them almost half an hour.

"You sure the thing was dead?" Kai voiced his doubt.

"Positive," Baknar nodded. "I went back and made sure it was."

Kai sighed in relief. "So, how big is it? Did you examine it?"

"I'd say it was roughly nine feet in length. Maybe ten." he shrugged. "As for the examining, I thought that the person who shot it would be better qualified to do it rather than myself."

"Hn," Kai uttered. "Thanks."

He shook his head. "No need. It's common courtesy among us hunters. You would've done the same."

"Hey mister! Baknar! Come on!" Lyon waved at them. "I reached before you two! Now keep your end of the bargain!"

"Yes. Go on." Kai made a shooing motion with his right hand. "Just don't cut yourself on the claws and canines."

Kai had to admit. He had never seen a kid, or anyone for that fact, grin as brightly as Lyon did at that moment. It was downright scary.

By the time Kai and Baknar made our way to the kill site, Lyon was peering into the cat's mouth.

"It doesn't smell like garlic!"

Kai chuckled and sat down on a boulder. Walking had taken its toll on him.

The cat was pretty large, now that he saw it clearly. The snow had countered decay, keeping the corpse rather fresh.

"Why didn't you bring it back to the village?" Kai inquired of Baknar who looked back at him incredulously.

"You expected me to haul three hundred pounds of dead and frozen sabre cat through a mile of snow to Ivarstead?"

"Umm…"

"Exactly."

"Hey mister! I'm done!" Lyon said, flashing another million Septim grin.

"Your turn, I guess." Baknar sighed and occupied the boulder Kai had just gotten up from.

Hobbling his way to the cat, Kai couched beside its head. The bolt he had fired lay embedded in the snow a little distance off. He could clearly see the puncture mark in the cat's throat where the bolt had met skin. The wound had bled, but it had long since clotted. Kai pried open its mouth and examined the teeth.

Odd.

The teeth were frazzled; decayed even. A few were even missing. The gums had gone blackish. This thing was certainly no spring chicken. He examined the claws next. The sharpness was gone. They were dull and had not been used much in recent times.

He felt his gut twist in dread.

Kai got to his feet and made his way to the goat. Part of the stomach had been eaten. That was not good at all.

He clenched his jaw and went back to the cat. Walking up to its rear, he studied the rear left paw.

There was no injury. There were no signs of previous injuries, either.

With a groan, Kai sat back down on the snow. "Goddamn it!"

"Mister? What's the matter?"

"What's wrong?"

Lyon and Baknar asked almost simultaneously.

Kai ran his fingers through his raven hair in desperation. "This isn't the man eater."

Shocked silence followed.

"How can you be so sure?" Baknar was the first to recover.

Kai didn't say a word; only dejectedly pointed to the rear paw. Baknar knelt and studied it minutely before sighing.

"There is no injury."

Kai nodded. "I should've known."

"I don't get it." Lyon looked at him, confused.

"The man eater," Baknar explained, "is supposed to be a six year old female. In sabre cat years, six is about middle aged. Cats live up to fifteen years, maximum. Also, its rear left paw had been injured by an arrow of mine."

"This cat doesn't have an injury. Neither is it young. I'd put this one around twelve or thirteen years of age." Kai said and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Look at its frazzled teeth and claws. Look at its gums. This female has been through the mill. Due to old age, it has lost its hunting assets."

"But why would it invade our man eater's territory? Aren't cats fiercely territorial?" Lyon questioned.

Had it been some other time, he would've commended the boy on his wildlife savvy.

"If you hadn't eaten a square meal in two months, you'd stop giving a fuck too." Kai snapped with some bitterness.

His tone caused Lyon to flinch. "I'm sorry…"

Kai massaged my temples. "No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped like that." He sighed. "My frustration got the better of me."

Though he nodded, Kai could still see the shock in Lyon's eyes.

"To answer your question," he began, "Yes, cats are fiercely territorial. But since this old female lacked the means to hunt, it took to scavenging. The goat's incessant bleating and its smell proved to be too much of a temptation for the cat to resist." He paused. "And I don't blame it, either."

"Anyway, it's better that it died by your hands than starving to death." Baknar spoke up, trying to lighten the mood. "You saved it from a lot of pain and misery. Death was almost instantaneous."

"I know." Kai said quietly and got to my feet. "Anyway, I'll have to bury it. Will you two help?"

Baknar blinked. "You're going to bury a dead sabre cat?"

He nodded. "After death, it doesn't matter what we were in life: bandits, saints, murderers, priests, hunters and even sabre cats. We're all equal in that sense. I killed it. The least I could do is give it a proper resting place… and bury the goat with it. We'll give it in death that which it yearned in life."

"That… that is so amazing, mister!" Lyon enthusiastically exclaimed. It was almost as if the boy had forgotten all about the little scene a while back. Kai wouldn't complain, though.

Baknar scratched his head. "Never thought about it in that sense…" he said.

Kai clapped him on the shoulder and said smugly. "We learn something new every day, mate. I learnt this particular lesson from a pointy-eared friend of mine some time ago… Right! To work, laddies! The cat ain't comin' back to life and diggin' its own grave, ya know!"

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**Ondolemar**

Ondolemar shifted in his seat.

Being in the Thalmor Embassy always put him on edge. He was the judge, jury and executioner in nine cases out of ten back in Markarth; he was a 'somebody'. People respected him, feared him and hated him even. In Markarth, he had control. But here, sitting across from First Emissary Elenwen, he knew all too well who exactly was in control.

He allowed his icy gaze to wash over Elenwen, who was currently immersed in reading the report Ondolemar had brought her. It was regarding a theft at the Markarth Treasury House during an event hosted by Thonar Silver-Blood.

Contrary to popular belief, Thonar was nothing more than a whining bitch. He had eaten Ondolemar's ear off about the incident. He said that the stolen item was a precious jewel of sorts. Ondolemar had scoffed. Rocks weren't worth his time. But he had compiled a report and instead of sending it via courier, he had made the long journey himself; getting away from Thonar's constant whining was a very important factor which had determined his current course of action.

"So what do you think, Ondolemar?" Elenwen inquired without even looking at him. "What do you make of this… burglary?"

She said the last word while suppressing a smirk. Was she somehow amused by the whole affair?

"I think it was the Thieves' Guild." Ondolemar shrugged. "Although, what interest they have in shiny rocks is beyond my comprehension."

"And this woman? Reina?"

Ondolemar dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "A fake identity. Members of the Thieves' Guild aren't daft enough to use their real names."

"Hmm… perhaps you're right." Elenwen said softly. "So, you're saying this is not important?"

"If you think otherwise, go ahead and investigate it, Elenwen." Ondolemar leaned back in his chair and tried to relax. "I won't stop you from wasting your time."

He was among the very few people who were allowed to call the First Emissary by her first name. They had worked together for a very long time, so it was no surprise.

"Hn. You're curt as always, Ondolemar. I hope the Forsworn kill you someday soon." Elenwen replied.

"And miss your funeral?" he smirked. "Not for the world."

They were silent a while before smirking at each other. Wishing death upon the other was not a new activity for this particular pair. The interesting thing was that they actually meant what they said.

"So, is that all?" Elenwen asked and flexed her back, eliciting a few cracking noises. "I find it hard to believe that you came all the way from Markarth and asked to see me just for the stolen stone. What is it, really?"

Ondolemar reached inside his robes and brought out a few rolls of parchment. "You know about the agent I placed at the College, I presume?"

"Of course," Elenwen said listlessly and accepted the new gift from Ondolemar. "Aslantar. Or was it Aicaoril?"

"Ancano." Ondolemar corrected his fellow Altmer with a small smirk, apparently pleased with himself upon being able to find a miniscule fault with the First Emissary. "That's his report for the last month."

"Is that so? Kindly summarize it for me, will you?"

Ondolemar's smirk instantaneously vaporized, only to make way for a smirk on Elenwen's face.

_Bitch._ Ondolemar gathered his thoughts and prepared to launch into his speech. "The Collge has recently recruited a bunch of new students: a dumb Nord named Onmund, a crafty Khajiit named J'zargo and a rather clumsy Dunmer. None of them have the ability to become thorns at the side of the Thalmor yet, except the Khajiit. He has the ambition and the drive, also the talent. He might develop into something. Ancano has his eyes on him.

"As for the other faculty members, there is nothing new to report. They are as reclusive, secretive and suspicious as always. Especially the Master wizard, Mirabelle," Ondolemar said with contempt. "She makes it a point to give Ancano a piece of her mind every time they cross paths."

"And what of the Arch-Mage? Aren?" Elenwen enquired as she interlaced her bony fingers and closed her eyes. "He has not caused any problems, yes?"

"Not yet. He does not wish for a confrontation with the Embassy." Ondolemar replied. "However, he isn't the reason I'm here today."

"Oh? And what it is that has your unmentionables in a twist, I wonder."

Ondolemar brushed off the sarcasm. "I am by no means in a temper, Elenwen. Distressed, yes. You would be too, if you knew what I knew." _Or did not know, for that matter._

"Get to the point then." Elenwen urged him. He detected the faintest bits of impatience in her tone, but decided to ignore it. He could not rush such things.

"There is a student at the College named Ivan." He began. "I had asked Ancano to observe him and for the longest time, he has done so. In that time, Ancano has also done quite a bit of digging. And what he has found is… well, I am unsure as to how to describe it."

"Is this it?" Elenwen asked, showing Ondolemar a certain sheet of parchment. "Yes, that is his life history. Look at it. You'll understand what I mean."

And so he waited as Elenwen scrutinized the document. She kept her expression carefully neutral but he knew she was impressed with what she saw.

"Ivan Asarsen. Followed his father on pilgrimages all over Tamriel from childhood, studied magick under him and enrolled in the College of Winterhold at the age of eighteen, rose to the rank of Journeyman within ten months, graduated at the top of his class at the end of the year and became an Evoker. Over the next seven years, he stuck with the College and now holds the rank of Warlock. He also assists the faculty members when it comes to teaching. He's a likely candidate for the rank of Master Wizard."

"Impressive, wouldn't you agree?" Ondolemar interrupted Elenwen who had been reciting from the piece of parchment in a monotone. "Now comes the curious part; his father, Kern, was also a graduate of the College of Winterhold. It can be safely assumed that this boy followed in his father's footsteps and even achieved what his father had achieved. The father, Kern, was a Master Destruction mage, also knowledgeable in the arts of Alteration and Conjuration. He left the College at the age of twenty-eight, ranked Warlock, joined the Legion and took part in the Battle of the Red Ring. Ivan, aged twenty-six, has already achieved that and surpassed his father." Ondolemar paused and let it all sink in. "Alchemy, Destruction, Alteration, Conjuration, Necromancy, Restoration, Illusion, Enchanting… look at all the categories of magic he's studied. Why did he try to study so many? He gets almost to the point of mastery of a discipline and switches to another field, and never looks back again."

Here Ondolemar left his seat and started pacing the room, his arms clasped tightly around his back. "It's… it's as if he throws away everything he's learned like yesterday's trash. He's never shown any passion for anything at all in his life. He has no deep desire, no wish of any kind to be granted. Why would a man like that spend years of his life only in the pursuit of knowledge? Why would he throw his life away and stay cooped up in an old castle when he could make a fortune outside?"

"This matter is certainly interesting, no doubt." Elenwen agreed with a nod. "I shall look into this matter. But tell me, what of his father?"

"Deceased." Ondolemar said with a shrug. "Died two years ago."

"How?"

"Helgen."

They exchanged an understanding look. Elenwen had been at Helgen during the dragon attack two years ago. She had experienced firsthand the carnage that had taken place. Kern Asarsen, strong as he was, had fallen victim to the Nordic God of destruction… along with the residents of a whole village.

"I see." Elenwen replied and succeeded in stopping the traumatic thoughts aroused by Ondolemar's words from infiltrating her mind."Any other living relations?"

"Hmmm?" Ondolemar replied. His attention had been momentarily diverted. "You were saying?"

"Any other living relations?" Elenwen repeated. "Siblings? Cousins? Anything?"

"A foster brother." Ondolemar replied. "After Ancano sent me his communiqué, I had another of my men look into this character. What I found is also included in that report."

"Why don't you tell me. I'm tired of leafing through parchments."

Ondolemar sneered but decided to oblige her… again.

"His name is Kai. He was brought up in Riften's Honorhall orphanage and was adopted by Kern at the age of ten. Ivan was twelve at that time. Kai had no real last name and he refused to adopt his stepfather's. Nothing much could be found about his childhood, but just like his step brother took to magic, he took to the sword. At eighteen, he was serving aboard the Alessia, an Imperial Navy ship. By twenty, he had been transferred to the Legion, serving under Legate Rikke. He rose through the ranks and quickly became Captain at the age of twenty-two."

"I really don't see how he's of any importance, Ondolemar." Elenwen stifled a yawn, clearly bored. "If there is a point to all this, I suggest you make it."

He paused at that, stopping in front of a window. Peering out, he could see it was snowing outside. It was probable that it escalate into a blizzard. He sighed. "Captain Kai served during the Skyrim Civil War. He was deployed to almost all major fronts, especially when the fighting was at its fiercest. It was almost as if he had an obsession with chasing his own death. These were clearly the actions of a man bent on suicide, because he insisted on being dispatched to said fronts." He stopped to regain his breath. "His endless string of battles came to a sudden halt two years ago. He quit the army and virtually vanished from sight. They say he became a hunter, tracker and freelance bounty hunter." Ondolemar paused again, this time for effect. "He has no concept of self interest. His actions are completely disconnected from any thought of risk versus reward. Having said that, I don't think he is just another rogue freelancer simply in it for the money. It just doesn't add up."

"What are you trying to say, Ondolemar?" Elenwen asked. She was starting to feel a bit anxious. Ondolemar did not get this worked up over mere trifles.

"So, I must ask the question: what did he seek in those battles?" Ondolemar said in a loud whisper. It was almost as if he had not heard Elenwen and was merely thinking aloud. "What was he looking for? And what exactly did he find?"

He then turned around and fully faced Elenwen and for the first time in her life, she could see the outright signs of unease in him. The look in his eyes was different, and it sent a cold shiver down her spine.

"You know better than anyone that I like knowing, Elenwen. I like knowing whom to trust or distrust, who is with me and against me, the agendas of various people I'm working with or against. In fact, never have I encountered a situation where I have faced an acute lack of information regarding anyone. You would think that a former Legionnaire and a College mage would have tons of stories, but not these two," Ondolemar finally spoke, his voice wavering. "I can't for the life of me figure out just what these two individuals desire. I have no idea what their objectives are, what their ambitions are. And that… terrifies me."

Elenwen coughed. "You're thinking too much, Ondolemar. Surely, these two Nords can't be so important for you to go out of your way to know every inch of them."

"They are the sons of a person who killed thirty six soldiers of the Dominion with a few choice spells, Elenwen," Ondolemar replied evenly. "Lack of information means one of two things. One, they are incredible good at toeing the line. Two, they are incredibly good at hiding things. If it's the latter and they are hiding plans of say, treason, I want to know. I cannot afford to overlook these things, and neither should you."

The Justiciar fixed the First Emissary with a long stare between bowing and swiftly stalking out of the room.

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**BLOOPER REEL**

**Outtake 1**

"Hey mister!"

"Hn?"

"Mister, mister, mister, mister…"

"What is it, you little dunderhead?"

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"….no."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to have one."

"I thought all adults liked having a girlfriend…"

"And why is that?"

"My father said love is important."

"You don't say…"

"But my mother says that men are chauvinistic pigs who are only in it for the sex."

"…how old are you again?"

"Twelve. Hey mister, have you ever had sex?"

"My sex life is like a Ferrari, Lyon."

"Huh?"

"I don't have a Ferrari."

**Outtake 2**

"So, is that all?" Elenwen asked and flexed her back, eliciting a few cracking noises. "I find it hard to believe that you came all the way from Markarth and asked to see me just for the stolen stone. What is it, really?"

Ondolemar looked deeply into Elenwen's eyes. "I was horny."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Omiq**

Omiq shivered. Used as he was to Skyrim's cold, Karthwasten was brutal; especially in this time of the year.

Even so, he placed his paw atop the tombstone and continued. "Blessings of the Nine Divines upon the Imperial, for she was the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved" – he glanced at the name etched on the rock - "Katerina. May Katerina's soul forever tread the path of righteousness and inspire those dear to her to uphold their humanity. In the name of Arkay and His Divine Providence, this one, as His humble servant, bids her farewell on her final departure." With a pause, he added, "Rest in peace."

Sighing, the Khajiit rose to his feet and brought his palms together for a final prayer for the departed girl. He then clapped twice and turned around.

"I must say, it's difficult for me to believe that a Khajiit can act as a priest of Arkay."

Omiq simply smiled. He was used to such observations.

"This one is but a humble servant of Arkay," he said, walking up to the Breton man who had employed his services. "The Breton can believe what he will. It does not change that which is true, nya."

Ainethach stroked his chin and started walking. "So, how much do I owe you?"

"Omiq does not charge for issuing funeral rites, but he is curious about how such a young girl came to meet her end, nya," Omiq said, falling into step beside his employer.

The Breton man walked into his house, Omiq in tow. Offering a chair to the Khajiit, he himself occupied another.

"She was raped," Ainethach said gravely before sighing and shaking his head.

Omiq pulled on his whiskers, his brows furrowed. "This one sees. That was the cause of death, was it?"

"No. the girl took her own life. Couldn't bear the shame of it, I guess."

"How old was she?"

"Seventeen."

Silence fell between the two.

Omiq was the one to break it. "Do you know who did it?"

The Breton snorted. "Are you joking? The whole blasted village knows who did it. It was those Divine forsaken Silver-Blood mercenaries."

"Mercenaries?"

"Yes. I'm one of the few native sons of the Reach that owns land. It doesn't make me very popular."

"Ah. The Breton speaks of the Silver-Blood family of Markarth." Omiq mused, "Why would they send mercenaries, this one wonders, nya."

Ainethach nodded, "The Silver-Bloods want to… _protect_," he spat out the last word, "the Reach from the Forsworn. These thugs have been '_generously_' hired by them to defend the mines. They're trying to intimidate me into selling the mine;they say that nobody can mine from it unless the ownership is settled upon and they've blockaded the mine for that purpose. They know that the townspeople are angry… that's why they've holed up in the mine, the cowardly lowlifes. It's _my _mine, and it is _not_ for sale."

Omiq nodded in understanding. "This one wishes to change the topic. Can the Breton provide a hearth and some food for Omiq? It is nearly evening and this one does not wish to walk all the way back to Solitude."

Ainethach considered this. "I could. But it will cost you."

"How much?"

"Hmm. For a hearth and food, I'd say about fifty Septims."

Omiq chuckled. "The Breton should know better than to rip off Khajiit, but this one accepts the offer."

They were interrupted by a heavy thumping from the direction of the front door.

"We know you're in there, village head. Come out and meet us properly; don't worry, we've only come to negotiate… again."

"Sons of bitches…" Ainethach swore under his breath and got up. Omiq watched as the man strode over to the door and opened it, revealing the so-called mercenaries.

They were a rag-tag bunch from what Omiq could tell; nothing worth losing sleep over.

The leader was another story, though.

The man was clad in full steel plate armor from helm to boot, an axe hanging on his hip.

"There is no negotiating," Ainethach stated, "I want you sellswords out of my mine."

"Watch your tongue, half-blood. We will leave as soon as we are sure that there are no Forsworn here."

"And when will that be, I wonder?" Ainethach crossed his arms over his chest. "When I sell my land to the Silver-Bloods? Or when you've desecrated the purity of another innocent girl?"

"The Silver-Blood's have made you a very generous offer for this pile of dirt. I suggest you take it. As for the girl," the Nord mercenary smirked, "Well, she was at the wrong place at the right time. It gets boring you see, making sure the mine is safe, you know. The boys wanted some entertainment."

"How could you?!"

The leader shrugged. "Not our fault she ended herself. We didn't force her to do that."

"You bastards!" Ainethach cried out, shaking with rage. He was stopped by Omiq who had placed his paw on the Breton's shoulder. "This one believes that there is no reason for conflict at the moment, is there?"

"Who in Oblivion are you?" the leader asked, sounding smug.

Omiq bowed graciously. "This one goes by the name of Omiq, a humble priest of Arkay; at your service, nya."

"Well, aren't you a well mannered ball of fluff," one of the mercenaries said, resulting in the others exploding into a fit of laughter.

"We'll leave for now… just because the cat provided us with some amount of entertainment. We'll be back later, though," the mercenary leader said as he turned and started walking away. "Count on it."

"I hate their lot." Ainethach said once the mercenaries were out of earshot.

"Omiq is inclined to agree with the Breton's sentiments, nya," Omiq replied. "This one also thinks that it would be in Ainethach's best interest to sell the mine, nya."

The Breton's jaw dropped. "Are you suggesting that-"

"Is it worth seeing the people get hurt, nya?"

"I-" Ainethach licked his lips. "You're right… my people come before anything. I should've realized that sooner."

"It is never too late to do the right thing, nya." Omiq smiled. "Now why doesn't the Breton write down a contract? This one shall deliver it himself."

* * *

><p>"So let me get this straight," the mercenary in steel armor looked confused as he went over the deed. "The half-blood decided to sell the mine?"<p>

"So it would seem," Omiq replied, amused. "The Breton has signed. The name of the buyer is left blank. All the mercenary has to do is to go back to Markarth and tell whoever sent him to fill in his or her name."

"You're a priest right?" the man enquired.

"Yes, indeed.."

The Nord chuckled and stuffed the deed inside his hip pouch. "You look like a walking talking sweet roll in those robes, cat."

His comment elicited another wave of laughter from his companions.

Omiq merely chuckled. "This one sees that the mercenaries are amused, nya."

"You can tell?" one of the thugs said in between fits of laughter and threw a coin purse his way. "You're exceptionally bright for a cat bastard! Here, your payment for helping us complete our job"

Omiq laughed aloud after pocketing his payment. "Amusing it is. However, this one has a question for the men."

"Go on. You've earned the right to ask us anything," the leader said. "It's the least we could do after the entertainment you've provided us."

"Did you really rape that girl?"

His sudden change in tone and speech startled the mercenaries. They looked at each other before one of them answered in the affirmative.

Omiq smiled. "I see. Do you know who Arkay is?"

He didn't pause for them to reply.

"Arkay is the God of the Cycle of Birth and Death. As such, I was called upon to deliver the girl her last rites. Do you know what I dislike? It's when people are taken before their time. It's a sad world we live in indeed," Omiq said and pulled back his hood. "You are a bunch of pigs, the lot of you. If you're old enough to fuck, you're old enough to kill. And if you're old enough to kill," he disrobed, allowing his clothes to hit the ground. "You can't complain if someone kills you, now can you?"

Beneath the robes, Omiq was clad in a pair of tan trousers and a blue tunic. Swords hung on either of his hips and he simply smiled at the thugs. "And your time is up."

Before anybody could react, Omiq had swiped at a nearby thug's throat, tearing out his windpipe with his claws. The man grabbed at his throat and fell to the ground in a heap. He wouldn't be getting up.

"Y-You're a priest!" another one shrieked. "You're not allowed to kill!"

"Can't I?" Omiq inspected his now bloodied nails. "Being a priest of Arkay, it is my duty to bring peace to the dead. Of course, I doubt Arkay would mind if I sent a few more souls His way; Him being used to handling untimely death and all that, you know?"

"You son of a bitch!"

Uttering a battle cry, the sellsword cried and charged at Omiq, swinging his steel battleaxe down at him.

"See, the thing with heavy, two handed weapons is that the attack stances are limited; you can only swing it down or sideways, making your moves very easy to read."

The mercenary gulped. Omiq flashed him a grin. The axe had hit the ground and Omiq was doing a handstand on its shaft, his face level with that of the sellsword; albeit upside-down. Folding his elbows, he leapt into the air and landed on his feet behind his attacker.

No sooner had he done so that another came at him, hand cocked back to deliver a punch. Smiling, Omiq arched backwards, letting the fist fly mere inches over his face before straightening. The Nord's momentum had carried him forwards and he was currently off-balance. The one with the axe was not.

He ducked under the horizontal slash of the thug. When the axe had sailed over his head, he leapt off his feet, landing his knee on the Nord's chin. He then jumped at the sellsword and launched himself into a back flip off the man's chest, landing with his palms on either side of another man's head, his legs thrust up into the air; the same guy who had tried to punch him.

"Goodnight," he smiled pleasantly and snapped his neck before landing on his feet.

He saw that only two remained now; the one with the battleaxe and the armor clad leader.

"I guess I'm outnumbered… whatever shall I do?" Omiq wondered aloud. "Oh, I know! I have these swords… perhaps I can use these."

Smiling brightly, he drew both blades gracefully and slowly. The confused looks on the face of the battleaxe wielding mercenary caused him immense pleasure. The expression of the other one he could not read, on account of the helm. He would do something about that very soon.

He himself looked at the blades and took a moment to appreciate their beauty. The blade was long and thin, dual edged, terminating in a sharp point. But that wasn't what was so amazing about the sword; it was the hilt which had caught their attention. The hilts were complex, designed to protect his hand. Rings extended to the sides from the crosspiece. There were also finger rings on either quillon, enabling him to place his index fingers on the ricasso. These rings were covered with metal plates. A fat pommel secured the hilt to the weapon and provided a balance to the long blade.

"It's called a rapier. Cyrodiilic, in case you're curious. It's understandable that you have never before seen anything like this. I don't think there are any smiths who forge rapiers in Skyrim," Omiq said and smirked. "Now then, shall we?"

He could see that the two were cautious; they had no idea how this weapon was used.

_This ought to be fun!_

Then the pig with the battleaxe charged, weapon raised over his head. Omiq crossed his blades and held them over his shoulder, blocking the descent of the two handed weapon.

He then thrust his hands outwards, throwing the man off balance and causing the axe to retrace its trajectory back upwards.

Bringing his arms back, Omiq thrust both blades forward, impaling the man through the neck in an 'X', killing him almost instantly.

Pulling his swords out of the man's throat, he shook the blood off of them. "And then there was only one… hmm, the blades have been nicked. That's what I get for recklessly hard-blocking a battleaxe. Oh well, I'll just have to fix them once I get back…"

He then focused his attention on the armor clad leader. "What's your name?"

"Atar," the Nord answered, his voice trembling. "Now now, no need to do anything rash… I'll leave, I'll leave!"

"Leave? No. You will depart." Omiq smiled gently, "As in, from Nirn."

"What-"

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Nine Divines upon you-"Omiq began, charging at Atar.

"For you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved Atar-"

Omiq sidestepped the wild slash from Atar's axe.

"You who would desecrate this land of the falling snow-"

Feinting with his left, Omiq caused Atar to slash at him.

"In the name of Arkay and his Divine Wrath-"

Omiq parried with his right and launched a riposte; a straight thrust which went cleanly through the gap in Atar's helm and through the man's eye.

"I, as His humble servant, hereby lay waste to thee-"

Pulling out the right blade, Omiq used his left to hit Atar on the chin, causing the helm to fly off his head.

"And expel thy vast defilement!"

He impaled Atar with his right rapier through the hollow beneath the man's chin, the blade cleanly exiting the top of his head. Omiq clicked his tongue. He had skewered the man's tongue in the process.

"Rest in peace, nya."

Omiq pulled out his blade gently and shook the blood off of it before sheathing both rapiers.

"You humans are among the most predictable and interesting things one can ever hope to find," Omiq said as he reached into Atar's pouch and retrieved the deed. "I guess that's why I love your kind so much, nya."

* * *

><p>"The mercenaries have decided to leave."<p>

They were buried deep in the mine, but Ainethach did not need to know that.

From the looks of it, Ainethach could not believe what he was hearing. "How did you manage to do that? Did you pay them off?"

"Omiq is poor Khajiit, he cannot afford such huge sums of money. Of course, where the Nords are, money is not an issue." Omiq smiled as he reached inside his robes and produced the piece of parchment and held it out to Ainethach. "The contract."

The Breton graciously accepted it. "You have done us a great service. I do not know how to thank… what in the name of Oblivion is the meaning of this?"

"This one has taken the liberty of filling in his name, as the Breton must have undoubtedly observed by now." Omiq grinned, interweaving his fingers and resting his chin atop them, his elbows resting on the table. "So, it would seem that this one is currently the owner of Sanuarach Mine, nya."

Ainethach didn't say a word. His lips were pressed into a hard line as he occupied a seat across Omiq.

"Of course, managing a mine, as the Breton will surely agree, is too much of a hassle."

"What are you suggesting?" the man leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

"This one is willing to sell it to the Breton," Omiq smirked. "But it will cost Ainethach."

"You're going to sell us our own land?" Ainetahch gnashed his teeth. "How much?"

"If you wish to get something, you have to pay the price, or so the saying goes." Omiq said, a smirk still etched across his features. "Well, to my untrained eye, the value of the mine and all the silver it contains lumped together," he paused for dramatic effect, "Equals the price of a hearth and a meal at Ainethach's place. Is that reasonable?"

For a moment Ainethach forgot to breathe. Then he burst into laughter. "You're right! That is expensive! Bought!"

Omiq grinned. "Sold."

* * *

><p><strong>Kai<strong>

Another week had passed without incident. News spread fast in a town as small as Ivarstead, especially news of failure. Some villagers applauded Kai's effort, some sympathized with his failure and some others had warned him of his recklessness.

The amount of glares he received from the Ivarstead guards went up several notches. Kai couldn't blame them, really. They were helpless in the current situation. On top of that, his failure in ending the menace that was terrorizing their town didn't fly well with them either. In the end, they were just as frustrated as he was… probably more.

He had paid Ennis back. The news of a member of his herd being mauled by a cat didn't particularly bother him. If it did, he didn't let it show. However, he had taken that opportunity to lecture Kai about how the cat was impossible to kill and if he continued to pursue it, it would result in his untimely end.

Kai had dismissed it with a shrug. People always had something to say.

He had also sent a report to Falk in Solitude regarding his subsequent lack of progress. He hadn't received a reply and quite frankly he didn't expect one, either.

The Nord had regained most of his health during the previous week and had started his tracking efforts again. He had returned from such an outing and had just crossed the threshold of the Inn when he heard Wilhelm call out his name.

It was quite late, probably three hours after sunset. Curiously, he wondered what he was needed for.

"What?" Kai replied, startled.

"Courier." Wilhelm replied and pointed to a scrawny looking Imperial boy of about fifteen. The boy had curly brown hair and keen black eyes. Those eyes somehow reminded Kai of a skeever.

"Read it aloud," he told the boy and occupied a barstool. Kai was in no mood to read one of Falk's speeches about efficiency and responsibility.

Nodding, the boy unfolded the piece of parchment and read out its contents in a carefully emotionless voice.

"A resident of our village, Treva's Watch, has been taken by the man eater about an hour ago. Immediate assistance is requested. Please come as soon as you can."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Omiq's swords are based on the early rapier. It's more of a predecessor to the rapier, actually. I used the word rapier here because people can visualize what that is with much more ease and clarity as compared to 'Spada da lato' or 'Espada ropera' or what have you. You can always Google those two terms if you're curious.**


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